There was a time when I thought myself beautiful.

It is silly really. The fancies of a small child. A child such as me who got married to her imaginairy friend at a young age. I was a young flirt who told my parents i was going to be married to David Copperfield. I thought i was pretty. because I didnt know what that meant. Beauty was some aesthetic that I was told i had. Of course they told me I had it. I was a cute littel girl who had chubby cheeks and curls. I was cute. I would sell my brothers boyscout popcorn because people wouldnt say no to me.
I thought I was beautiful. The truth was I didnt even know what it meant. and that wasnt beauty no not at all.

I used to think myself beautiful.

and perhaps then I was. I had realized what beauty is. That it is inside of you. and i thought i had it. Perhaps I thought so becayse I wanted desperately to be beautiful. To think that there was something attractive about me. I am still desperate for that. I thought that beauty was kindness, humor, tranquility, and peacekeeping and peace making. and perhaps i am and do those things.
But those are not beauty. I cannot describe beauty, it describes itself. and I know one thing. I do not have it, i am not beautiful. There may hvae been a time when i fit a definition of it. But no longer.