Halt your hopes – your search – of finding the one. The One, who will grab you by the waist when you topple to fall and will sweep you off of your feet, but will also drop you right off when he finds another fruit sweet. One who would fill you with love and hope and faith and ecstacy one second, but will break you within the next, snatching all of that bliss, because the tints, the hues that make up you, are forged with magic and wonder merged together; he and his mortal senses cannot contain the spark that is in thee, he’s too meek.
Trust me, oh conflicted soul; these worldly forests of affection are filled with falcons. Falcons with vigilant eyes and razor claws and beaks. So before they find you, you better find yourself. That if you may fall, you may fall not after the cuts and strokes those creatures draw on you, but instead, you may fall for your own self, fall in love with your own wretched self – even if that’s what you think of thee. Learn to live with the scars that make up ye. Trace them, and give them names as if they are streets on a map. Get out of the wilderness for jungles aren’t where you belong. You should know about your limits – THERE AREN’T ANY. You can be anything you want. ANYTHING! Think yourself a valley; a beautiful city. Anything. There is so much in you, numerous scintillating sights to see. Why decorate your monuments for someone else to marvel, when you are capable of doing that yourself? You are capable of everything, oh, you marvellous soul. You just have to believe and concoct your Dream World.
You are flawed, so what? So were all the saints and saviours that passed before you. Maybe you would turn out to be one too. Oh no, not for the whole world, not even for a cluster of people, but for just one even – for whom you’d make this world not only look, but seem like a world.
Why don’t you see? There is beauty in you that makes the stars blast out so far away in the darkness of the night, makes volcanoes burst out in flames and erupt, makes thunders lose their calm inside their clouds; all that because they cannot ever be you.
How envious are they all. That’s the kind of beauty you possess, and you make all of these wonders of nature fall for you. I swear you do. They don’t have a mouth but they speak. I have heard the promises of love in the agonizing roarings of the sea. And you do see the flickers of fire in its stares upon you, do you not? That’s envy; that’s its lust for your inside-out beauty. Don’t you see how badly it wants to consume you? Give it a chance and it will incinerate you. What? You think that it’s the winds that purge those flickers in fire? Well then darling, who is it that drives those winds crazy…?
Yes, you. Look at the madness that you instill in nature. How does it feel to be the reason behind all of that? Spectacular, no?
But look how you act, look at yourself. You are slumped there, back bent, face down, shoulders slackened, quivering lips; tsunami of tears convulsing behind your eyes, debating whether or not they should break the levee and just deluge through. Mouth overflowing with words for yourself, that should be associated with some monster that is far from you. Why do you do this, why, you beautiful, beautiful soul? Why don’t you believe that you are enough for yourself. Try. Once again, you try. Just once again, for the sake of all that you hold dear, try. Try to fix your dislocated bones and cracked ribs. You can do it. And if you can’t, it’s okay. Even your cracked bones have a melody of their own. The people who make you realize that, are worth keeping as friends, remember. Remember, your alleged imperfections are cloaked, shh… remember that you fell in love with them. Don’t make others see it, just don’t. You still look wonderful this way, I swear. If the mirror had a mouth, it would tell you the exact same thing.
You don’t need to be clad with emerald necklaces and diamond rings, love. You always were beyond all of that. You are a realm of undiscovered supernovas that just can’t be spotted by all of our vile mortal eyes.
Just… Fall in love with yourself. Trust me, you are the only one who sincerely can. You do that, and maybe the world would shut its Pandora’s box for you, and maybe you will find someone celestial with nebulas in their eyes, and a universe under their vessel; someone who can embody your galaxies within them. Someone who will share your dreams and live inside them, alongside you.