Compliments and presents will never effect me the same way a genuine conversation about your fears will. It’s nice to be adored and flattered but it’s not meaningful. Going to the store to buy a dozen roses for $12.99 isn’t the same as telling someone how scared you were when your parents told you they were getting divorced. Telling someone they have a nice body isn’t the same as admitting you don’t really like your freckles or the the little dent in your chin. Being vulnerable is beautiful. Trying to look beautiful isn’t. I don’t understand how people can pretend to be so happy from all the superficial things in life when it’s the moments we can’t put into words or pictures that are the most wonderful.