True Beauty

She was beautiful. Not in the way she walked or talked, but in simply who she was. The way her eyes lit up when you started talking about something she loved, or when she was genuinely happy. She was beautiful, but she was prettier. The other girl was prettier. Not in who she was,  or even in her mind. She was prettier than her in a much more egotistical way. They way she walked, like a graceful swan, the way she talked, like the lace on a wedding veil swaying in the wind. But she was not as beautiful as her. No she could never look as beautiful without trying, or just by waking up, like the other girl could. She would never be as beautiful as her, but at least she was worth it. I was worth it, she was just pretty. That's all she was.