It's getting better, isn't it? I think so...so much so I can't even bear to look at the older stuff at the bottom! I worry at what shocking errors I will find...maybe it's better that way; signs of progression!
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
...beauty.
I always assumed beauty equalled confidence, nobody could be easy on the easy yet still feel confined, trapped, lost and lonely. I assumed that whilst beauty does not equal intelligence, we all know that is not the case. Whilst she wasn't the brightest bulb in the house, her heart was vibrant and sharp — yet her eyes belied the smile. Whilst most could not notice, they would be too busy gazing at her jaw line, the whiteness of her teeth, her pert (but ultimately paid for) breasts, her eyes told of a sadness that her world wouldn't see. I could see it.
What I never told her was that I could see it all. While she doodled 'eyes' to remarkable detail, her eyes remained unmoved, her lips remained straight, there was no level of enjoyment or concentration, it seemed to be the most mundane task to draw the scribbles to her. The level of extreme accuracy in the shape of the eyebrows was enough alone to draw me into wonder, yet she remained static — unmoved by the life she was creating. If the eye on the page blinked, it would not have surprised me. To her, this was normal, nothing to be proud of or think that this was anything exceptional.
What I was foolish to believe was that normal folk, such as I held the monopoly on maudlin. The beautiful always smiled, the ugly always frowned. That's the way I saw the world — basic, but true. You never saw a movie star walk down the red carpet without a smile, never did you see Miss World cry without the whitest of veneers flashing in the cameras. Never did you see the bearded, unkempt man with plastic bags for shoes as ever being used in an advert for Calvin Klein boxer shorts, with unadulterated joy on his face. This wasn't how it worked, was it?
She changed my views alright, not only was I wrong about beauty being skin deep, for as shallow a thought that is, everything I assumed about being pretty, a magnet for attention, a vision of vitality She was sad, she was mistaken for being 'whole', that everything in her life was surely OK or better. Better than you and I, reader. She taught me that nothing is ever what it seems. Where there is life there is colour, not just black and white.