Upon maturity, I have noticed insecurities even adults harbor to which, as a child, I was entirely oblivious. The woman waiting in line adjusts her shirt hem and then holds her hand loosely over her stomach as she stands. Someone else keeps his head and eyes down as he walks to his car in the parking lot. He searches for keys in his pocket and shuffles down the row.

A woman does not stop playing with her hair, tries to get her ponytail to look perfect.

A man does not make eye contact during conversation. Perhaps he is unsure of what he says?

A woman refuses to smile widely, for fear her teeth are not straight enough.

I see teenagers glancing at the magazines on the stands. I see them watch how, every week, the glitz of airbrush presents flawlessness, how the teenagers look at those images, how they compare.

I see some people as part adult and part their teenage self, because there are moments I pick up on what may have been an experience that hurt them. In passing someone haphazardly mentions that they were the brunt of a joke, or make lighthearted jokes about their weight or acne as a fifteen year old. Maybe they reference low grades, maybe they were not good enough to be on the baseball team, the tennis team, to be a swimmer.

Enough, enough, enough. You are not good enough because you are too short. You cannot do it because you don't think the way I do. You are not pretty enough, you are not tall enough, spirited enough, happy enough, normal.

Why can we all be so cruel to one another?

Oh, to dream this dream: that we would begin to encourage one another and even to encourage strangers. We are all insecure about something. But what if we could unanimously let whatever "it" is go? Think about what a simple compliment from a good place could do.