Do you ever look at yourself and say,
I am foolish and
clumsy and silly.
These are the strange faults of myself
and aren't they lovely?
No, you don't.
You don't see them, the beautiful faults of yourself, and what a tragic waste you are when you can't see past the end of your long, long nose.
Who cares if it's good looking?
Who cares if it curls just right at the bottom and smooths itself into a handom circle?
I don't.
I care that you see yourself for what you really are, what I also really am--
a beautiful, faulted human, full of life and mistake that is dusted by the everyday ordinary and showered by the everyday extraordinary and wonder--
because I choose to be.
Look at how you see yourself
and ask yourself
why you don't see yourself
for what you are
rather than by what you see.
Me?
I read too much and not enough.
I drown out all too much as well. My headphones are attached to my body.
I find bare feet unattractive most of the time.
I see beauty in a faulted face and crave the laugh so unappealing and atrocious you know it must be real.
Sometimes I'm a bad listener, terrible even.
I never get sufficent amount of sleep.
I'm a music snob, along with fashion.
I don't eat olives or cashews. In fact, I despise them.
I don't favor the cold chill of spring down my back or the dying breath of a summer's night fire.
I sleep with my fan on--all through the night.
I often find myself wishing I could speak every language or at least one another one.
I miss my sister. So much.
I'm anxious by the sea.
You know what else?
I see you.
I see you even though you don't want me to and
you know what I really see?
I see a lost boy
pretending he is man.
A small child,
wishing he was something more than he is and professing such delirious nonsense, I know it must be true.
I see a scared child in your eyes
and that is how I see the goodness in you
that you hide so well.
But not from me.
Never from me.
-k.p.
