What is Beauty?

 The following piece is a spoken word poem I wrote and performed for a Fine Arts Performance in 2014.  Warning: In the following piece harsh topics are addressed (i.e. self-harm, eating disorders, suicide, bullying, self-hate, etc..) If any of those subjects are sensitive areas for you, or something that might trigger you, I would encourage you to forgo reading this post. Thank you!




Ever since I was a child,
I allowed other's words to define me.
And the harshness of their tones,
Erased my concepts of reality.
Unplanned pregnancy, Unwanted-Daughter,
Cancer-kid, God-Healed.
I was always somebody's relative,
Somebody's miracle,
Somebody's answered prayer,
And never somebody.

And adolescence didn't fix this,
But adolescence changed this.
I was no longer know by my experiences,
But rather, By my appearances.
Fat, Pale, Freckly, Crooked-eyes, Broad-shoulders,
Wide-hips, "I can see your veins through your skin", Translucent.

And the harsher and harder the words became,
The more ways I looked for to numb the pain.
And the heavier and heavier each meal became.
And the lighter and lighter the number on the scales became.
And the easier and easier the self-inflicted pain became.

Foundation never covers the scars in the way you think it should.
Did you know they turn brown, before they turn white?
Of corse, it all depends where on your body,
You plant your garden of self-hate.
My mother always said I had a green thumb.

And it wasn't until One night, at sixteen years old,
I sat, crying, on my bedroom floor,
Trying to ignore,
The voices, from the bottles of pills, and the blades,
And they promised to forever take away this pain,
When I heard a whisper, clear as day.
And He had important things to say.

"Daughter, I know you hear all these things telling you,
You're not pretty, You're not lovely, You're not worthy.
Daughter, they're just not true.
I made this life especially for you.
So you have to hold on.
You've tasted all of the bad and none of My good.
Daughter, I have miraculous things waiting for you.
So Give It Time."

And I realized that night that I can't let others' words define me.
Yes, I'm the cancer-kid.
Yes, I have wide hips.
Yes, you can see my veins through my skin.

But I learned that night, That others' words don't define me.
His words define me.
And He says that I am the
Epitome of Beauty.

Happy?

“Are you happy?” is a hard question to answer.

In general, yes. I’m grand. My life has never been better.

I’ve got good grades, awesome friends, and a family some would kill for. 

This town may be small, but it knows me, 

I’ve got a life here. A future. I’ve got everything to live for. 

But I wish I could tell you about the days when I’m not happy, 

How sometimes this house doesn’t feel like a home

And this town feels like a daydream.

I wish I could tell you about the days 

Those ones where I can’t find myself in the mirror

Or feel myself beneath the hot shower water.

I wish I could talk to you about the days 

Where I am not happy.

But it’s easier to say I’m better now

Than to tell you that some days are still really hard to get through