Beauty. One simple word, a countless amount of emotion and expectation. Am I beautiful? A question every single human being has asked. Yes. The answer my child, my love, is yes. You are beautiful. You are perfect. You are enough. It's overwhelming to think that, to believe that. You are enough. Say it quietly, say it alone. Look in the mirror and say it without crying. I dare you.
I've always hated the way I look. I don't care if you think different. I've looked at enough women to know where my facial features fall short. But I have also never cared enough to let that fact stop me from pretending like I enjoy the way I look. All people care about is Confidence anyway. And since I do have ego about my sense of humor and intelligence, it comes off the same. Photography is a whole other game though. My biggest question right now is, would I rather be in a beautiful picture or take one?
"With a wind beaten and cracked face I looked forward. The harshest part was over I told myself. My hands were red and broken, but I really didn't need them anyway. Secret moments like this last forever, waxing and waning gently, always fluid. Just let me close my eyes against your chest one last time, to remember the warmth, the parts of your skin my fingers lingered over. I need the silence. I can't concentrate unless it's silent and I want to get this one right."
Even slow progress is progress.
