Every once in a while, I won’t feel so great about myself.
Every once in a while, I’ll look at other people and see their beauty.
I’ll see the smallest, most trivial and insignificant gesture
Take place in the form of a smile.
And my entire inner existence collapses in on itself.
Because, her genuine ability to smile as if this exact moment is the most intoxicatingly and electrifyingly invigorating moment to ever present itself--
Her genuine ability to smile as if she is the greatest embodiment of warmth and endearment that has and ever will cross your path--
Her genuine ability to smile as if she is the only one any and everybody can and does share any and all of their deepest and most intimate secrets with,
Because the way her teeth glow
And sit imperfectly perfect in her pristinely and pleasantly placed mouth give you something honest and trustworthy enough to pour the entirety of your soul out to--
Because her genuine ability to smile as if she is the most valid form of life and consciousness that has and ever will exist,
Is a very, very, very good thing.
And even more so, it is very difficult to obtain.
And it is something that I do not have.
And every once in a while, that makes me sad.
Sometimes, I’ll watch people do things.
I’ll watch a simple, sincere, and unsophisticated human being transmogrify into the most complex and convoluted version of himself,
Purely because he is faced with a presence that mirrors himself in a way that amplifies his most intriguing and inspiring attributes
And draws upon his greatest and most inclined talents and abilities.
I watch him
Discover and uncover the colored
Through his wonder at a world with a seemingly colorless lense.
And I watch him
Find these colors in places and ideas and people
And soon enough, this fiery fanaticism colors his entire world with a slight tint of rose.
And the rose of these tinted glasses he wears is what thrusts life into the otherwise
Lifeless and lackluster so-called lover of life.
And he lives,
And he loves,
And he breathes
He becomes the beauty he sees.
He embodies, and he emulates.
And he recreates
And when the greatness is great--
I mean utterly and unreservedly great--
The lifeless are suddenly given life.
And their vision is no longer
Black, white, and gray all over
With a hint of monotony and mediocrity.
Because they start to see color in the greatness of others,
And the transformation begins again.
Sometimes, I’ll watch him and all the others living in color,
And I know that for me the world is still gray.
And sometimes, that makes me sad.
Every day, I’ll look at everyday people.
And my eye is consistently caught
By the confidence in thought, speech, appearance, and ability
That is possessed by these everyday people.
People who may or may not know who they are as individuals
Or as pieces of a puzzle that leaves just enough space for them to complete it
And feel completed by it.
Their ends are only just slightly too jagged,
Or just slightly too curved that they don’t quite fit.
And the vacant space begging-- demanding to be filled
Haunts them relentlessly instead.
You would never know.
Because they’re able to act as if everything really is okay.
They’re able to act as if they aren’t broken
Or losing pieces of themselves
Or gaining too many
Or being fought against by everyone around them
Or being fought against by nobody but themselves
Or laughed at
For the first time,
For the one and only time,
To put their hearts on the line
Or even wear them on their sleeves
Or expose even a small part of themselves.
They’re able to pretend that everything is okay.
And after a while, even believe it themselves
And compel everyone else to do the same.
What truly amazes me is their strength
To let themselves try and be okay
And know that it’s okay to try to feel okay
With trying to feel okay.
When a person can love herself
When a person can love himself
When I can truly love myself enough
Or to try to try
Or to try to try to try
To be okay,
To be more than okay,
To be so much more than okay,
That’s when I know that everything will be alright.
That you and I, we’ll be just fine.
Every day I try to be enough
Because it’s every day that I feel that I’m not.
Every day I have to convince myself that I am, in fact,
Enough of a friend,
Enough of a student,
Enough of an artist,
Enough of a human being.
And every once in a while, I succeed.