Brain Dump: The Effect We Have

Every once in a while, I come across things like this

or this

and they always get me thinking. First of all, the obvious, wondering if anyone ever has done that about me. But also wondering why this happens. Why is there such fear around telling someone about your feelings for them? And why on earth don't we believe people can have feelings for us? 

I've had a couple close calls this year, where I almost lost some people who are very important to me in a very permanent way. I also seem to have lost several friends in a not-so-permanent way. These situations have only made me wonder more about this. About how friendships are handled and about how people don't believe they can be loved. It bothers me because on some days, I'm one of them. 

It is on those days that the first image I shared becomes a sort of comfort as well as fascination. Just imagine it: imagine the sheer number of people that you've noticed, thought were attractive, or liked and noticed every little thing that made them unique. And then think: someone has looked at you that way. In this wide, wide world, through the long years, someone has looked at you that way. More than one someone. Because the truth is, we're lied to about beauty for the first eighteen to twenty years of our lives. Because we're told by many sources that the standard of beauty is fixed and immovable, and to be beautiful you must measure up to this bar, arbitrarily set by people with cameras and darkrooms and fashion magazines. Yet, there is no fixed standard. Everyone is beautiful to someone; everyone is someone's type. But we don't always believe it.

So believe me when I tell you this: That someone has seen you and thought you were beautiful. They have watched you smile and breathe, watched you talk about something you love. And in that moment you were everything they needed, just as so many have been for you. And part of me thinks that this is the very definition of humanity, this give-and-take of beauty and love. Humanity is constantly loving and changing and worrying. 

Worry. 

That's what else is on my mind. I'm so worried. About anyone out there who doesn't believe me when I say that someone has thought you are beautiful. Someone has seen the light in your eyes. I'm worried about those who don't see that. Who don't see how many hands area outstretched to help, how many people they'd hurt if they...left. I'm so worried that it's almost a panic. And it's a good thing it's a busy day or the worry would overwhelm me, I just know it. I am so worried about the desperate measures these people will go to in order to escape the living lonely hell that life has become. I'm worried that they'll be different than I was, back when I truly believed that no one cared. I'm worried they'll hurt themselves in more permanent ways. It is a constant prayer in the back of my mind, that they will feel loved today, that they will see light. That they can see this caring that I have no clue how to express except to write these words and tell you these things, all of which are true.

I love you.

You are beautiful.

I have seen you and the light in your eyes. I have watched you laugh and smile. I have seen your despair. I have seen your soul, your strong, strong soul. And it is beautiful in a deeper way than anything superficial ever could be. 

I love you, my friend.

And I'm worried about you. I'm here. Let me help. Let me pick you up, shoulder part of your burden, just for a while. Anything to preserve the beauty that is you, the glory weighed down by shadows. 

You are beautiful, special, and wonderful, and your loss would leave a hole so wide, a chasm so deep, that it would last forever. The people that you know? None of them would ever ever stop missing you. 

Worry and beauty are on my mind today.