"How dare you call me pretty"
Darling, one of the best things I can suggest to you is that you are pretty. You are not a dandelion in a field floating in a wind so calm you can hear every breath you take. You aren't a piece of hair tucked behind your ear by a boy who whispered I love you in three different languages but for got to mean it in any. You are not the sun beating down on a face who knows nothing but misery and drowning. When the boy who fucked you and left you, calls you pretty, ask him, "how dare you call me pretty?". Remind him that you are a masterpiece that is currently being created by the hands of a mastermind. You are the entire field of daisies whalers a young couple is falling in love amongst blue sky and clouds. You are a power saw cutting away at broken dreams of someone who once knew so much more. You are a paper cut. You are an angel. You are more than pretty and how dare anyone call you anything less than a goddess.