“Smile,” the word slithered from the lips of mine.
And suddenly, the moment the picture was taken, the smile was frozen. I wished I could walk up to her, smack it off her pretty face. Of course I was envious, of course I wanted what she had. But there was no way to get it. She had her face, I had mine.
From that moment on she was happy. Truly happy. Life flowed through her. I could do nothing, but hope to get a fleeting glance from her. Maybe, through her eyes, beauty was thrust upon whatever she looked at. Maybe, if she looked at me enough I could steal her beauty. Make it my own. I sat alone in my room, staring at a picture of her. Why should I care so much? Why should I want what she has so badly? Why can’t I continue with my life?
And then, the blame.
God, what do you have against me? If I had her beauty, if I had her smile, I could do so many good things for the world. What’s wrong with you?

What’s wrong with me? Everyone says that I’m beautiful in your eyes. Is she?