The Diary of Queen Mothy |
Beauty written @ 12:24 PM on May 21, 2004 "You cut off your hair," he said. "Why'd you do that? It was pretty." "Attracted attention," I said. "I thought girls liked that." I smiled, felt the bitter aftertaste in my mouth. This boy might know a lot about cruelty and waste, but he didn't know a thing about beauty. How could he? He was used to that skin, people turning away, not seeing the fire in his lucid brown eyes. I could tell, he imagined beauty, attention, would feel like love. "Sometimes it hurts more than it helps," I said. "You're beautiful anyway," he said, going back to his drawing. "There's not much you can do about that." I painted Claire's dark hair, layering blue and then brown, blending in the highlights, catching the red. "It doesn't mean anything. Only to other people." "You say that like it's nothing." "It is." What was beauty unless you intended to use it, like a hammer, or a key? It was just something for other people to use and admire, or envy, despise. To nail their dreams onto like a picture hanger on a blank wall. And so many girls saying, use me, dream me. -- Janet Fitch, White Oleander
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
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