
Beauty
I stare at the mirror,
Why can’t my face be clearer?
He pushes back his hair,
Why does he give so much of a care?
She thinks she should be skinnier,
Is she inferior?
Beauty is subjective,
So why is it the objective?
I stare at the mirror,
Why can’t my face be clearer?
He pushes back his hair,
Why does he give so much of a care?
She thinks she should be skinnier,
Is she inferior?
Beauty is subjective,
So why is it the objective?
Gun Control. Republicans and Democrats. Conservative versus Liberals. All are topics that people are told not to talk about. To not engage.
Why? Because it causes arguments. It divides.
Yet we still jump straight into an argument because …
I put in my earbuds and started my run. The story began again and started setting the scene for the chapter. I was listening to my favorite audiobook. Each chapter in the book had a saying that was insightful before starting the story. The saying for this chapter was “The only thing you must not lose is hope.” My brain started going as I thought about that quote.
Have you ever looked through a window that has accumulated a lot of rain droplets? How about a window with rain droplets that allows you to look back at yourself? Have you ever noticed blemishes on yourself when you look back at yourself? That’s because the rain droplets seem to just take it away. Almost like it, disappears.
When you look through this kind of window it seems as if everything is fixed. Yet God doesn’t even need to look through the window because he is looking right at you. God sees you in your entirety and says you are perfect.
I stared at the math problem with confusion. I knew we learned how to solve it but I was so tired I had forgotten everything. I had tried three different systems and none had matched with the possible multiple choice answers. Then I remembered how to do it. I picked my pencil back up and started writing. It didn’t take long for me to complete the problem and make sure it was correct. I turned in the quiz and walked out of class on my way to lunch.
With quivering movements, I put my pencil to the page and begin the first stroke. I continued until the piece is almost complete. Then I began the shading; under the eye, the neckline, then finally the hair. The paper transformed from a blank page with a single stroke into a piece of art. Our first stroke is our first breath. Each breath we take adds to our piece of art. Just imagine, a hallway filled with incomplete canvases. Some are nearly blank while others are almost complete.