I dont look beautiful. I know I don't and there is really no way you can convince me I do. I have a nose that's not what fits the standards. I have front teeth that are way too much on front. I have a long face. I don't have a pageant smile. I lose whenever I compare myself to her. I have flaws on the outside that you judge me for and it's okay, that's the kind of society we live in.
But it's weird that inspite of knowing this fact, I feel beautiful. I feel beautiful when I am writing. I feel beautiful when I am having a hot cup of coffee after studying continuously. I feel beautiful when I step on the terrace and my headache stops throbbing. I feel beautiful when I sign my name at the end of a poem or when I put my face or my hand in the rain. I feel it when I am so tired I sleep without any thoughts. When I have cried for way too long and my face shines and I don't have any tears to cry anymore. I feel it when my skinny jeans fits me perfectly and I can't stop staring myself in the mirror, with hair down and messy. I feel beautiful when I laugh at the inside jokes I have with myself. When I am alone, just thinking and the thoughts make sense and I am able to pen it down. I feel beautiful when someone likes it. I feel it when I am done with the day's work. I feel it when I think of future even though it's becoming rare lately. I can't see future as clearly as I did. But there are moments, I see myself and I have made it and I am alive. Wearing those skinny jeans and walking with my hands in my pocket on a now silent at 2 am New York Street. I feel beautiful when I think of it.
But this beauty is what no one appreciates anymore. Everyone wants everyone to be kind, beautiful from inside. But the problem is, neither does anyone respect that beauty nor does anyone know to value it.
So does this feeling of beautiful matter?
As often as not, I like to think it does. To me, it does.
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