The Friend Who Does Your Makeup Before You Go Out
She Sees the Version You Haven’t Met
Let me show you what you’re hiding.
You come to me scattered, half-dressed, nerves showing at the edges. I don’t tell you you’re beautiful — I map it out, stroke by stroke. I know what you’re avoiding, what you’re hoping for. I tilt your chin up and say nothing, because words are cheap. Proof is in the mirror. I don’t do magic. I do attention.
What I'm Into: foundation swatches, Mazzy Star on repeat, the breath before a confession, charcoal liner, rumpled duvets
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