Someone thinks you are beautiful. Someone, somewhere, someday, maybe right now, even as you are reading this, loves you. And in my own way, so do I. Because you can love strangers, for the quiet thoughts in their head that are so similar to yours, and for the fleeting smile that appears for a second of your day. It gets better. Sometimes, it gets much worse before it gets better. But see it through, darling, because so much of our time here is wasted on struggling to get somewhere. And sometimes I think that we try to look for complex solutions to simple questions. Stay. It gets better.