Being Beautiful Means Being Our Crazy, Silly, Embarrassing Selves and Loving Every Moment of It
Time stood still, as we existed amongst one another in a silence that salved our souls, while we peered out into the center of the Milky Way, tracing its curves with our fingertips. Minutes passed before we spoke, and in those mere minutes I remember recognizing that feeling. The kind where nothing else mattered, because past and future remained in their place, and only that single moment, that sliver of time meant everything.
I have not been able to write for 3 years now. Sounds dramatic, I know, but it’s not untrue. Whatever skill or discipline I developed for myself since I began posting my writing in 2015 has mysteriously vanished since 2020, and I’ve been grasping onto as many faint strands of whatever is left of it ever since.
I watch the corners of your mouth curl up, as you tilt your face towards the sun and close your eyes. It’s the perfect October afternoon, the kind where the air is crisp, the sky is a nearly cloudless blue, and the sun is still …
We are all going through something. Whether it’s something that looms across the entirety of our day, or perhaps it’s a single thought that only occupies a few fleeting moments of our time, in any case, I’ve come to realize that we are all going through something. We are all thinking, processing, internalizing, pushing aside, accepting or letting go of something, and it’s truly unfortunate that so many of us go at it alone.