Sometimes I cry thunder storms. I’m drowning inside, every inch of me pouring frightening blue.
The first time I viewed myself as worthless, I staggered into the bathroom, I shoved my face under the running faucet. I didn’t blink. I splashed the mirrors with drops of anger, walked to my bedroom, hiding every piece of mistake and ugliness behind closed door, every shred of ugly duckling inside me. We all have moments where we just want to be erased.
Sometimes I wish I’d been drawn in pencil.
When you’re alone in your room, walls, music, and lamps all become your best listeners. They agree with what your spirit is trying to say, they are sometimes more understanding than any counselor.
Time went by and I remained prisoner to my own body. Tell me, what doctor has the cure for that?
The sun painted morning orange across the horizon, and when I awoke from my slumber, you were there. Standing over me. Naturally, I panicked. I pulled the blankets over my head, praying you might vanish from my bedroom, but you remained. Instead I prayed that I might disappear, that scales might be placed over your eyes. You just kept staring at me, all of me.
I think this world would be a better place if we were all blind, if we stopped seeing with our eyes.
You gently peeled the sheets back to the edge of my bed, until I was fully visible before you, wretched and helpless, a boy in a man’s body, all my ugly placed before your sight.
Do you believe in fairy tales? That even the most gentle eyes can make an orphan feel at home?
My eyes began to flood down my cheekbone hills, then you knelt beside me, kissed the wet off my face. And in that moment, I knew what it felt to be loved by beauty.
No, we are not swans, but we’re also not as ugly as we think we are.