He told me I was beautiful, then asked if
I believed him. “It depends,” I responded “do you mean it”? He did, and there
were no doubts in my mind.
My penmanship has regressed to that of a
very organized middle school student. I suppose, like this imaginary tween, I
too am changing every day. Mutually exclusive of my recently transformed font
is that way in which I perceive my surroundings. They are new, yet the same.
The point of view is new…that ‘s the secret to it. I read a lot about this in
literary handbooks which I deemed futile at the time, but now I live the
definition. Every tool is a weapon if you hold it right, and this beauty
which was once haunting now captivates me in a newly painted world. One that,
strangely, never actually changed.