The Price of Beauty
She wasn’t the first.
And she wouldn’t be the last.
It wasn’t too long ago that I met her, though it seemed we’d known each other our entire lives. It was a chance meeting, one that would impact both our lives.
I’m not too sure how it all happened that first day, but one thing that stood out right from the beginning was how strikingly beautiful she was and I would soon see that her beauty was not just on her face.
She was troubled; as was I, and how could two conflicted persons help each other get through the hurdles in their stories?
Her past was her present, a chain around her heart. I could relate all too well.
Though our stories were different, the emotions were one and the same, taunting and whispering in our ears.
She did not know that she had just met someone broken too. I wanted to hide it, but I couldn’t do so. I found myself telling her everything and she listened well, as did I to her.
She was a survivor, but she didn’t want to be. Tired of fighting and never truly safe, she turned to me for answers.
Why am I made to feel alone?
But how could I tell her? The very thing she has that many would do anything to steal is her greatest curse.
People fear it. It weakens them and strips them of their once sound judgment. Beauty, in all its enticement, draws out the darkness in others, a beast better left alone. They wear their masks and approach her, eager to get a taste of something so pure.
And thus beauty is deceived and shattered, forever left to wonder where it all went wrong, where she went wrong.
How could she tell who wanted to be her friend and who just wanted a kiss?
How could she tell who deserves to be part of her story and who isn’t worth a page?
I’ve watched you hurt for a long time. Through every tear you’ve shed, through every burst of confidence that was viciously ripped away, I want you to know that I felt it too. I can never apologize enough for not always being there to shield you as you have shielded me, though you’ve yet to realize how.
You have shown me the price of beauty in a way I’ve never seen before.
You are the bird that everyone wants to catch, but few want to hear sing.
But never forget. Your song is beautiful and it will be heard, if not by all then by those who matter the most.
I believe in it. I have to believe in it.
In a world where beauty has been driven into hiding, where envy stabs its fragile heart, where people will never understand that it is all around us in everything we do and every choice we make.
Show them that beauty survives.
Show them all.
It’s up to you now.