It Thrives Within the Held

I will not claim the mirror lies, but I will pray to Time that you may see how I do when observing your existence like a cat on the seventeenth floor bird watches.

I hope someday you'll understand that perfection is a myth concocted by someone who felt awkward about themselves and wanted the world to join in. Afterall, it's only a party if we suffer together.

I won't promise you will always be comfortable when gazing through an optimistic lens or catching the faintest reflection of your body in windows of buildings who reach toward the heavens, picking clouds like ripened blueberries off the branch.

It is easier if you can accept beauty isn't always in the eye of the beholder. Sometimes, it thrives within the held.

I can sense your apprehension, but when you gaze in the mirror a little longer, take a selfie with your aging mother, peel away the layers of "should be", you may discover that confidence blooms in living rather than being perceived.