### **Help Me Give Jessica the Smile the World Stole From Her**
Hi, my name’s **Charlie**, and this isn’t easy to write. But I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for the only person who’s ever looked past my pain, my past, and my brokenness—and seen the man I’m trying to be. Her name is **Jessica**, and she deserves a world that’s been anything but fair to her.
Jessica is the kind of person who gives until there’s nothing left—then gives some more. She works long, brutal hours without complaint. She listens to others’ problems like they’re her own. She says yes even when she’s exhausted, and when someone finally asks how *she* is, she just smiles and says, “I’m okay.” But that smile? It’s never full. It’s never confident. It’s never real.
And I’ve never seen her laugh freely—not once. Because she’s ashamed of her teeth.
Jessica’s dental problems aren’t cosmetic—they’re the physical result of a life she never chose. Her **mother passed away from kidney disease when she was just a child**, and her father was sent to prison soon after. From that point on, she was tossed into the **foster care system**—a system that gave her shelter but never stability. There was no dental care. No check-ups. No one looking out for her smile, or her heart.
By the time I met her, she’d become a survivor—quiet, strong, always looking out for everyone but herself.
Now she’s with me, and I get to see the woman behind the armor. But it breaks my heart that she still hides. She covers her mouth when she laughs. She avoids mirrors. She’ll never admit it, but she doesn’t believe she’s beautiful. And I’m tired of watching someone I love carry shame that was never hers to begin with.
Here’s where our story gets harder.
I was a **third-generation Airman** in the U.S. Air Force. I believed in duty, in service. But at 19, after a trauma I still can’t fully speak about, I was discharged. **PTSD and schizophrenia** were the diagnosis. I didn’t even get to finish training. They gave me an “entry-level separation” and sent me home with pills and a file that made me feel like a failure. It nearly broke me.
Jessica didn’t run. She didn’t flinch. She stood by me through it all. She’s been my safe place, my anchor, my reason to keep trying.
Now she needs something—and she’ll never ask. But I will.
We’ve been quoted **$8,500** for a full dental restoration—extractions, implants, surgical work. It’s more than we make in several months combined. We’ve tried saving. We’ve skipped birthdays, put off car repairs, cut corners everywhere. But we can’t do it alone.
This isn’t about vanity. This is about **dignity**, **confidence**, and the right to feel good in your own skin.
I know people pass by campaigns like this and think, “There are bigger problems.” But imagine what it’s like to go your entire life feeling like you’re not allowed to smile. To feel like joy is something you have to hide.
Jessica deserves more than that. She deserves to be seen. She deserves to feel proud of herself when she looks in the mirror.
So I’m asking—**if you’ve ever loved someone so much it hurt not to be able to help them**, please consider helping me help her. Give Jessica the smile this world tried to steal.
Let her see, for once, what it feels like when someone shows up *for her*.
With all my heart,
**Charlie**
