Aesthetic is so subjective. Trends tether people together. As if being uniformal is superior. What happened to individuality. If our dna isn’t replicated why should we?
Ever fiber of your being was formed intently. We dye, botch, and beg to be something. Someone different. Why?
Thoughts I ask myself. As if being who I was created to be is that last thing that actually feels right. Wrong. It’s perfect. Perfectly and wonderful made.
It may not feel natural to think these thoughts at first. So we must speak to ourselves. Tell ourselves the truth. Stop listening to the narrator of lies. Adhere to the truth.
Psalm 139:14 I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
Isabella Rae 
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