The pain she feels is nothing when she hears the pain of others. She hurts so much but they hurt so much more. She does not understand how they live each day with the weight of their past. Hers seems so small and yet it is so crippling for her. She cannot let her thoughts take over for fear of losing control. She cannot tell others. She cannot speak out. She cannot barely confess it to the written pages of a diary. She's lost in her pain. She's lost in her past and yet... Theirs is so much worse. "How can this be?" she asks herself. "Why am I so weak?" Then a hand reaches out and lifts up her face. He wipes her tears away and pulls her into the warmth of his embrace. For that moment she feels safe. She feels loved. She doesn't understand. "Why?" she asks him.
He smiles at her and says softly, "I love you. No matter what I love you. You're precious to me. I love your emotions, the secrets inside you and the pain you hide. It makes you unique. It makes you powerful. You're so beautiful."
She laughs at that. Beautiful? How could she be beautiful? She felt so ugly with all those tears. "I'm not beautiful," she protests. "Weak and pitiful maybe, but not beautiful. I'm not popular, or cool. I suck at sports and everything I like is lame."
"Then you don't understand beauty," he says simply. "What you said is not beauty. Redefine beauty. It is being true to who you are is beautiful. Having feelings is beautiful."
"I don't even know who I am anymore. I've been hiding too long."
"Don't worry. You'll learn, just spend time with me."
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2/3/2019, 12:42 am by 
