My older sister had always said that beauty is pain, but I've come to consider that instead, perhaps, pain is beauty.
Pain—psychical or psychological—is an experience you can grow from.
That's why I pushed myself to talk to you. To start a friendship with a ridiculous high-five. To talk with someone I hadn't talked to in awhile. To make a stranger smile. To laugh for hours with my friend. To fall in love with the way you made me feel about myself. To take a risk and face my fear of rollercoasters. To sing along at a concert and shout out the lyrics. To appreciate art. To fall in love with you. To stay up the whole night and just watch the sky. To realize that you didn't love me anymore. To scream and cry because you hurt me... so deeply. To love my friends and appreciate them. To finally, finally manage to let go of you.
I could gain experiences that way. I could gain life. I could gain more knowledge of myself. I could live.
The pain you inflicted was terrible, but it made me who I am today. I'm better because of that. I'm sure of it.
And that's beautiful.
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When I Felt Beautiful
Short Story"feeling beautiful has nothing to do with what you look like. i promise" -emma watson // a collection of moments when ainsley torrid felt beautiful
