Scars Are Beautiful.

“Dark is nothing to be afraid of”, as a kid, I seldom heard dad screaming, when the lights were turned off, and the grip of my hand to his became firmer. Little had I known then, dark would be the ally, while the lights would become the darker shade of my life.
I spent my nights sitting, suspended in a hazy daze on left side of my bed. The side that touched the wall. And the side that was farthest from the mirror. Usually all I did was recalling every word the other person said at the school, or on the road, each day.
In the day, I usually covered my face, I refrained from exchanging the glances, because it hurt. It killed me a little inside to look at myself in the mirror. I was afraid that my unbeautiful truth would somehow show through my skin- that like everyone, I had flaws too. They would know that I had been abused, and broken. They would know that my life was clinging to a thread. I was afraid of nothing, but… myself.
I was a paradox. I thought of myself as a fighter. I wanted to fight but did not know how to. I loved people who had their opinions, but I felt devastated when they put their opinions on mine. I had scars- inside and out.
I remember, I wanted to grow beautiful, but, they manifested. Now that I’m older, nothing seems to be same. I realise, I can no longer pour out oceans to make way for relief. I want to be intelligent and burn hearts with brilliance. My pain can no longer engulf me, but it is me who wants to engulf souls with compassion.
Beauty is a concept I struggled with- what it means, why it matters, and why do we spend first half of our lives to attain it, and the second half worrying at why it is no more. I struggled because huge chunks of my life were not beautiful, they were unrevealed, painful, marred by trauma, frustration and anger.
Now, I think, each scar of mine reveals a story. The story of a survivor, who has lived, and has depth. I don’t take beauty as something superficial, that can be measured or weighed or scaled, that pleases the aesthetic senses. I take it as something that flows within, and glows with a smile.
Now, I am beautiful. Not because I made it to a surgeon or a psychologist or a gym instructor, but because that is what I feel. I find beauty in my scars.
Sometimes, all you need to turn the frown upside down is to shift your perspective of life.
Life is that ‘awkward moment’ between the day you were born and the day you die, that despite of its tragedies, is beautiful. It’s beautiful because you make it beautiful.

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