She sat there on the shoreline. 

Alone as usual, 

but she’d grown fond of the relaxation she’d found in being alone. 

Walked around. 

Never really seen to be unique or worthy of that talk of the town popular role. 

She was just, 

Herself. 

But that’s how she saw beauty in herself. 

Then that’s when she saw it. 

There it lay on the wet sand pushed up to her feet by those waves. 

A shell. 

A broken shell, 

 With a hole the shape of a heart right in its center. 

It was like a sign to her. 

To her, it was beautiful and unique. 

Her eyes always drew symbols in things, 

 and that’s how she was different. 

Different. 

Just like this shell, the ocean had given her. 

The shell had a broken piece. 

She had a broken piece, too. 

A broken piece of relation, companionship, a piece that sought worth. 

Like the shell, she was alone, walked around. 

Her being different was why she’d been walked around. 

The shell was different in color too. It had many bright colors yet a dark swish. 

A symbol of a difference, a symbol of imperfection 

for the shell it was neglect and imperfection.  

Stepped on because of one hole in its center. 

A difference from other shells. 

An imperfection that she thought was utterly, 

Unique. 

The shell was a symbol. 

A symbol of worth. 

A symbol that worth was still found in all the different imperfections. 

To her, the shell was her missing piece. 

The shell reminded her that there’s beauty in everything. 

A beauty that is found in many ways, 

No matter how many cracks and chippings the shell had it still had beauty, 

It had countless worth and perfection in her eyes. 

It reminded her that she had worth. 

The only thing that mattered was that she felt perfect. 

It made her feel, 

Perfect.