Share your beauty. My love thinks I’m beautiful. I wish I knew how to convey how phenomenal that is, that he thinks so and tells me so often. He tells me so, all the time, at all states of disheveled bumming at home, to polished and ready for work. What makes this so phenomenal is that I had always hoped I was. I believe parts of me are very beautiful, but that’s not an adjective I’d use to describe myself. He says it like he’s trying to tell me its Tuesday on Tuesday. That I just am. As I am. My reluctance to understand that he can see my beauty…