When expectance change to acceptance, life becomes calm and soothing.

My beauty  
I think I’ll always be at least a little repulsed by seeing my own reflection.  
It betrays me,  
Stares at me with my father’s eyes and my mother’s smile.  
Haunts me, embarrasses me, manipulates me,  
Forces me to face all those faces that came before mine,  
All the faces reminding me that I can’t change where I came from.  

My eyes are supposed to be beautiful,  
Big and brown and caring,  
Loving, intoxicating, inexorable.  
Though,  
I’ve never found any beauty in my father’s eyes,  
I find his relentless selfishness,  
His sadness,  
His stubbornness,  
His refusal to help himself escape the pain I know he’s always embedded deep into his ivory skin,  
It reflects in mine.  
I stare at a mirror,  
He’s the one who stares back,  
Reminding me that brown is not just a color that has the potential to be beautiful,  
But also the color of the selfish isolation I am doomed to endure.  

I don’t see beauty in my mother’s smile,  
I hear all the hateful words that passed her lips,  
Every biphobic or humiliating comment to keep me down, each reason why I will never be like the other children she knows.  
All the words screamed at me until I finally began to believe them,  
Encouraging me to make myself smaller,  
Make myself less me.  
Make myself hate every part of myself.  
I picture her in front of me,  
Her grip so tight on my wrists that I can feel the bruises forming, her nails digging in.  
Her face distorted by my held-back tears as she hisses at me,  
“Nasty.”  
“I wish I never had you.”  
“Unlovable.”  
“Unfixable.”  
I imagine her soft smile,  
The same smile she wore every time she
wore every time she swore she was proud of me,  
Twisted into the spitting image of hate and disappointment she won’t let me forget.  

I wish people wouldn’t search so hard for my beauty.  
I wish they wouldn’t take my face in,  
My features all stolen from  
Generations before,  
As a representation of my being.  
The big, brown eyes,  
The charming, uneven smile,  
Thick hair and tiny little freckles you can only see up close,  
Femininity, romance, perfectly imperfect to keep you interested,  
Just unique enough to make you think you’d never find a replacement.  
It’s all so pretty, so perfect, so pointless.  
It may captivate you,  
But it doesn’t tell the story of what lies beneath,  
All you’d have to endure to keep it in your life.  

It’s not easy to see beyond my face,  
Or my attitude,  
Or my fast comments,  
All designed to intrigue.  
It’s not easy to stare into my eyes and watch them fill with tears,  
Watch the way my face falls,  
Farther and farther from your perception of my beauty.  
It’s not easy to hold hands when they fidget,  
So violently you’d think there was lightning shooting around my entire body.  
So easy to admire,  
But not easy to love.  

I ache for the love of which I have been denied for so many years.  
I want to be beautiful for all that I’ve endured,  
All that I carry with me,  
The pain I’ve felt,  
The abuse I’ve suffered,  
The stories I’ve collected,  
All the broken pieces of old versions of me that I’ve slaughtered on my own accord.  
I want you to think that I am beautiful even though I can never accept it.  
I want you to still think that I’m beautiful when my skin is ripped to shreds.  
Torn by the blade in my own hands,  
When my eyes are sad and empty,  
When my smile eludes you.  
I want you to still think that I can be beautiful.  

I am so tired of bleeding my soul for people who just want to look at me,  
So sick of letting people in who see everything beneath the surface of my face as ugly.  
I am so much more than my body,  
So much more beautiful than my face,  
But it will never matter.  
People will always praise my father’s eyes and my mother’s smile,  
The traits soldered to me that brand into my mind,  
Infect my soul with all of their hatred, anger, and disgust.  
People may always call me beautiful, but just once, I want someone to find my beauty to be more than skin deep.

I've been running consistently to getting somewhere
And in this moment right here my soul couldn't care
About all the dreams or the scars or wishes
I've been planning to go through, for my body leaves
The sense of reality under the gravity
Of my own pressures and judgements, projections
Of being imperfect, these self-rejections
Disguised as ambitions
Couldn't fool any soul that they are soul missions

I've been running and bleeding and I'm tired of feeling
That I am constantly in need of some divine healing
Healing is not becoming someone you're not
But accepting yourself as you are, the whole lot
The shadows, the wounds and the darkness of past
The ways that you cling still to what did not last
The ways that you think endlessly into void
And the way that you let your thoughts steal the joy

Of being right here, nothing else to avoid,
Just being yourself, it's not to control
The ways you exist or defining your role
Into this life in such perfect ammounts
That things old as faith and as grace simply counts
To nothing

Cause I'll tell you, you're something
That could never be perfect, for you can't be a concept
But when you look at the rain or the sea, anything
That nature has brought into this here existence
When has the mind ever had the persistance
Or the ***** to say something as perverted,
As : "that is not perfect, it's not in control,
Of it's own fate or soul, there is too much flow
It's allowing itself to go with, it must be tormented "

For existence was always meant to be accepted
As a jellyfish accepted the tide or a leaf in the wind accepting a ride
Life never happened by action, it just was allowed
To come into being by the one who is proud
To exist as he is, silent or loud
Or however it felt called up on the mount
Of his body or shape, incarnation or being
Regardless of pain, imperfection or grieving

Things such as healing or letting go of control
Were never intended to torment the soul
Into changing what happened or what it desires
What it feels that should be or the band and the choires
It hears, but instead, it was meant to accept
What exists as it is in the now, it's direct
And it's grounding and kind and just this moment
Can bring an end to the winter that stood
In your door and your house when you said that life should
Be different somehow in the way that it goes
But you cannot decide nor the waves nor the flows
Of the ocean, the wind or the boat you are rowing
But just the direction you decide it's worth going


So if you ever have wished for a different ending,
Know that it's here, and it starts with accepting
That life is not made for the ways of expecting
But for trust and for faith in this neverending
Journey of life and this always changing
Existence you are, it's about surrendering

To who you are and the present you're living
And about the love you're allowing and giving
Yourself when you start being here and receiving
All that's been waiting for you to start feeling
Worthy of living.

_M.

I used to believe that in order to let love in,
you let in, in your heart, the people who carry it.
But today,
as I waved you goodbye,
and I let you go, let you go,
I realised.

Love also comes from people leaving.
Love also comes from letting go.

I used to believe that in order to let love in,
you share as much of it as you can,
with people you hold close
But today,
as I waved you goodbye,
and I let you go, let you go,
I realised.

Love also comes from not holding on
Love also comes when some people are gone