Not Just Another Girl In The Room

There is a girl I know who taught me about beauty. She stands in a crowded living room, in between sweaty bodies and blasting music— supposing, if she stands there just a tad bit longer, she’ll eventually morph into one of them.

She squeezes herself in. Constantly tries to fit in— thinking she is just another girl in the room.

She, with a face brighter than the sun could ever be, wakes up early in the morning to meet the sunrise. She never misses a chance to witness the sky fade from the misty darkness into the orange-y and yellowish hues. She’ll pull her knees up to her chest and quietly wonder how something so beautiful can be gifted to such a harsh world. She watches as the sun slowly illuminates the planet, its rays crawling its way up the toes of her feet to the crown of her head.

She takes silent trips to her favorite coffeehouse and buys a hot cocoa instead of coffee because she never really liked the bitter flavor that coffees leave at her taste buds. She never fancied them. But, once in a while, she takes a sniff of those delightful caffeinated drinks that seem to tickle her senses.

And perhaps, she reckons, this is why she never dared to fall at another boy’s feet again. She has danced at the tip of death countless of times and it has always left her broken and bitter in the end. But every once in a while, she likes to dip her toes into the deep and warm waters, without a trace of fear painting her features. Even though she is sure that it can drown her, leave her gasping for air if she decides to dip some more— and there is always a tinge of hope that it wouldn’t.

At night, when the darkness swallows every ray of sunshine left, she grabs her coat and steps outside. She lies down under the moonlight and stretches her legs. She closes her eyes and presses her ukulele against her ribcage. She sings all her worries away to the stars watching her from above.

She insists that there are things out there worth losing sleep for— that there is beauty we cannot capture if we choose to only stay in the confines of our homes.

That our own shoes tend to take us out for walks every once in a while because beauty is never concentrated in only one place, it is everywhere our eyes can possibly roam. It is everywhere our heart can take us.

And there will be days, when she constantly feels a dying need to just roll under the duvet, disappear beneath the covers and never leave a trace in this planet at all. Because the world can sometimes be so draining. It gets the best and the worst of her. Sometimes at the most crucial moments of her life when all she can possibly cling unto is the reflection she sees when she stands in front of the mirror. When she can feel her own pulse against her skin. Hears the crack in her voice when she tries to speak. Knows what the lump in her throat meant.

In those moments, there is a monster banging against her chest, begging for release. And sometimes, she has to let it out— because there are beasts inside of us we can never learn to tame.

In those moments she has learned to cry. She realized that beauty does not always mean pretty. That beauty can be found even in the darkest of times. When we finally realize the value of the light protruding at the dark end of the cavern— in our hearts. When there is nothing left to love yet we find something to appreciate, that is beauty. And it is everywhere we choose to have it.

There is a girl I know who taught me about beauty. She still thinks she’s just another girl in this confined space. But she’s not. She doesn’t know it yet— but she, with a face brighter than the sun could ever be, is the most beautiful girl in the room.