Here we go again. Awkward smile. Frantic hair smoothing. Small wave. Walk away. Obligatory small talk complete. And yet, in the back of my mind, I know I’ll never be as good as you. How could I?

You’re better.

“Rachel,” you say. “I really like your shoes!”

But you must be lying. Your hair is never out of place. Your makeup never smears. You captivate the room with your voice. You can pull off outfits I could never dream of pulling off.

You’re better.

“You have a really great voice,” you say.

But when you don’t look me in the eyes when we talk, I can hear your thoughts about me. Why are you talking to me? What are you wearing? Why do you try to sing? Why does your hair look like that? Those have to be your thoughts because I can hear you thinking in my mind. And you’re right.

You’re better.

“You’re really funny,” you say.

But you don’t mean it. You probably can’t think of any other response to my awkward comments. You have to hate me. I must be weird. I must be something unapproachable, unworthy of your sight.

You’re better.

“I can totally relate,” you say.

But I can’t believe that. It’s impossible that your lack of eye contact could be due to shyness. You couldn’t possibly have started singing at the same skill level as me. Your smiling family could never fight. You couldn’t have ever struggled because you are always perfect.

You’re better.

But maybe you’re not.

Maybe you’re incredibly unique.

Maybe I am too.

Maybe all those quirks and talents and disappointments I despise in myself actually make me important. Maybe I need to not look and compare myself to you. Maybe I need to treat everyone including you with respect because there will never be another you. Maybe I need to shake these snap judgements out of my head.

Maybe I need to look in the mirror and say,“You’re better.”

Because when we finally sat on the bottom bunk in the cramped room, when we finally spent quality time together during that church retreat, we both discovered that our outward expression of our insecurities had delayed the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Sure you’re passionate about the difference between coral and tomato nail polish, and I can’t decide what Ron Swanson quote to incorporate into casual conversation, but we share a lot of similar interests. We both like cancelling plans, coffee and Jesus. We get excited about nerdy things and none of this would have come to light if we hadn’t roomed together that weekend.

It’s not that you’re better or I’m better.

Together, we’re better.