Posted by Tedd V

"Tell me again, how beautiful I am" she whispered in my ear. She'd say this whenever she was feeling down, and I'd always been eloquent enough to lift her spirits higher that the wind lifts the eagle. It always amazed me how such a wonderful young lady, full of cheer and good spirit, humour and joy could ever have a moment in her life when she felt unworthy of anything. Maybe I didn't really understand the depths of the hardships she had come face to face with, or how her struggles were harder than a slave’s palm. Maybe I looked at the way she smiled and failed to comprehend how, from those bright brown eyes that were so captivating, cold tears could flow like the like endless salt-water streams of melted snow. It's hard to imagine that under that beautiful even toned skin, she had emotional scars and bruises that band-aids couldn't hold together.

As these thoughts raced through my mind, I felt her gently nudging me with her elbow. "Tell me again, how beautiful I am." This time she came closer, and snuggled up against me, laying her head on my chest and putting her arm around me, as though to assure herself that I wasn't going to leave her. Her voice sounded like that of a mother singing a lullaby to a dying child. I could hear how she so desperately wanted to sound strong, but the trembling in her heart she couldn’t contain. Fear is an ugly thing, even in beautiful people. So I took advantage of her proximity, and gave her a gentle squeeze. Just to let her know that I’m here, and I have nowhere to go. Even if I did, she’d be my designated driver because I am stoned-drunk with the wine of her love.

I finally understood why an answer to this question was of such importance to her. Imagine, all your life having nothing beautiful to call your own, nothing good to look forward to. Imagine how it feels to know that goodness exists only through seeing someone else's smile. Everything she ever owned, everything she ever attached her name to, had been stolen from her. Her clothes, parents, home, friends, joy and her innocence, all that was stripped away from her. All she had left was her health and her beauty – and she felt like that too was lost. Fighting was all she knew how to do. With a past like hers, she just had to be strong. It’s saddened me when I saw her strength become her weakness.

Due to all the stress she had to deal with, her immune system had become too strong and started attacking her own body. She’d been fighting lupus and though she was winning by physical standards, it was heavily taxing her psychologically. Though she had it under control, she still felt like she wasn’t pretty enough on the outside. Like her her struggle was written on her face. Like all those silent screams were finally given volume. As if the deep hidden, emotional scars were starting to penetrate to the surface of her skin.