You couldn't help the feeling of self pity, which began to manifest itself in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes couldn't leave the page, the cover of the magazine. There stood a model, long dark hair all the way down her back, parted perfectly in the middle. Her proportions were flawless: big almond shaped glittering green eyes, stunning eyebrows, rosy red cheeks, full lips drawn taut in a pout, which to you, didn't stifle her beauty at all.

The woman's body was lean and long, but her curves were still profound underneath her satin pearl dress. Her hands lay on her hips, her finger nails long and well kept in a French manicure, making the mermaid style gown even more flattering.

You have no idea who this was, and even as you flipped through the endless pages of other women, who looked stunning with or without make up or perfectly pin straight hair, you still had no knowledge of their names. Does it really matter though? With beauty like that your name could be anything and still no one would care. All you strived to do was look like the girl in the magazine.

"Oi, {Name}, quit reading that trash. It's gonna get you nowhere ogling woman who you'll never look like." Complained Shikamaru, one of your best friends.

You roughly turned the page in angst, intently reading a small article giving advice to beginners with makeup. A laugh escaped your lips, for you're no novice when it comes to caking your face in makeup.

A sigh of annoyance could be heard by Shikamaru, but you ignored him, allowing your eyes to scan the page, before finally settling on the heading: "Get The Look," which went on to explain what hair products and makeup the model had been applied with. But to your dismay, racking up all the products prices' came to way more than you could afford.

"Apparently even "natural beauty" costs money," you sighed, referring to the look of the model who looked fresh as a daisy.

You heard a faint, "give me that", before the magazine was ripped from your clutches by none other than Shika, who was of course fed up with hearing you glower about yourself, filling your head with negativity reading articles basically giving step by step instruction on how to look like somebody else.

In all honesty, it angered him. You're such a kind hearted, warm, amazing person. Yet all you want is to be anyone but yourself.

"Shikamaru, not funny. Give it back," you protested, attempting to retrieve your precious article.

Shikamaru then began to flip through the magazine for himself, rolling his eyes at every statement he read.

"In my opinion your hair looks so much prettier than this lady's."

"Why would you want to make such a drastic change to your face?"

"50 dollars for a "contour palette", it looks like this girl wiped shit on her face."

Every comment he made sounded incredulous to your ears, but he wouldn't understand. It had you practically pulling out your hair, thinking about trying to explain yourself to Shikamaru.

You glared at the pineapple haired boy, jumping up and down in attempt to get your prized possession back, but with every movement, Shika would hold it higher and higher, more and more out of your reach.

"Face it {Name}, you will never look like the girl in the magazine. The girl in the magazine doesn't even look like the girl in the magazine," Shikamaru stated nonchalantly, while throwing your magazine several yards away.

He finally rid you of the one thing holding you both back from what would be a relaxing, peaceful day at the park, cloud watching. This made his lips perk up in a triumphant smirk.

An angry huff of breathe escaped your lips before you attempted to go fetch it, but Shika grabbed your foot, trapping you right where you were.

"What the hell, Shikamaru," you complained, whilst crossing your arms over your chest.

"You listen to and take to heart every word that monotonous piece of garbage has to offer, yet you never listen to me. If anything, you should listen to what I have to say, seeing that I actually know you."- your posture straightened itself out just a hair, with interest in what your friend had to say to you- "{Name}, you're perfect the way you are, every single thing about you. You don't need long dark hair, your blonde color suits you fine. I actually find you quite beautiful, and- he awkwardly scratched at the back of his neck in embarrassment with what was to come- "and when we watch the clouds go by, admiring their simplicity, I find myself looking at you instead. If makeup makes you happy, paint your face, cake it on, blend that shit til your arms fall off; but do it to enhance yourself. Don't do it to look like someone else."

Shikamaru's speech had you entranced, eye wide in flattery. No one has ever said anything like that to you. Not even your own mother would spiel on like that just to get you to understand why you should feel comfortable in your own skin.

"Oh, Shika!" You exclaimed, throwing your arms around his neck.

His cheeks were tinged pink in embarrassment, their color intensifying especially after you briefly placed your lips over his, capturing him in a velvety smooth lip lock.

Pulling away, your eyes shone bright, the summer sunlight twinkling in your eyes.

"Did you really mean all that?" You asked, biting your lip in anticipation.

"Of course," he replied, pulling you onto his lap, lacing his fingers around your waist.

A smile of content broke across your face. The sun basked across your backs while you both admired the clouds, watching and waiting for a new shape to appear- and even when it was time to leave, you never went to retrieve that despicable piece of garbage, the one who's only accomplishment was sapping away your confidence.