“I Am Not Pretty. Please Don’t Move Around Without Giving Me Some Love.”
It was written in smudged marker on the corner of a mirror at a thrift store—“I am not pretty. Please don’t move around without giving me some love.” At first glance, it felt like a joke. A quirky attempt at getting attention, maybe even a bit of sad humor scribbled onto an old piece of furniture. But the more you look at it, the more those words sink in, speaking to something deeper than just a dusty, forgotten mirror.
It’s funny how objects can sometimes mirror us—pun intended. We all have moments where we don’t feel like we’re enough. Where we look at ourselves and only see the cracks, the wear, the parts that don’t shine. Just like that mirror—chipped at the edge, a little cloudy from age—we carry things that dull our reflection. And when we feel unseen or unappreciated, it’s easy to start believing we don’t deserve care, or attention, or love.
But what if that mirror wasn’t just asking to be loved? What if it was reminding us to pause and give love—to ourselves, to the things we overlook, to the people we pass by without noticing? It’s a gentle plea: “Don’t move through life so fast. Don’t pass me by. I may not be shiny, but I’m still here. I still have worth.”
Imagine being that mirror, tucked into the corner of a secondhand shop, surrounded by newer, trendier pieces. It doesn’t have sleek lines or modern flair. But it’s held hundreds of reflections. It’s watched people grow up, get dressed for first dates, weddings, job interviews. It’s seen tears fall, smiles form, lipstick applied in a rush. That mirror has a history. A soul, almost. And maybe, like all of us, it’s just hoping someone sees it for more than its flaws.
We live in a world obsessed with perfection. Filters, edits, highlight reels. We praise the polished and overlook the worn. But there’s a quiet kind of beauty in the things that have been through life and are still standing. Still hoping. Still whispering, “Don’t forget about me. Love me as I am.”
The message scrawled across the mirror could’ve been left by anyone—a customer, an employee, someone who saw themselves in its reflection and needed to speak it out loud. “I am not pretty. Please don’t move around without giving me some love.” It’s not just a sentence; it’s a truth we all feel at some point. A longing for gentleness. For someone to slow down, notice us, and offer kindness—not after we’re fixed, not after we shine again, but right here, in our chipped and cloudy state.
So maybe next time you walk by a mirror—or a person—who doesn’t seem to sparkle, don’t rush past. Give them a moment. A little love. Sometimes, that’s all it takes to remind something—or someone—they’re still beautiful.
