Scars to Her Beautiful

On most days, she tries to be the happy version of herself, one that people see on her Instagram stories.

She looks wonderful. ALWAYS. Everyone showers her with compliments; she is so damn pretty, you see. She returns them with warm smiles and gratitude- That smile that never reaches her eyes. And if you care to actually look, her eyes tell a different story.

We sit a few desks away from each other, but we are those: Oh-hi-there-how-you-doing, kind of friends. I am not good at small talks and she doesn’t say much either.

She has friends here, at work, but no one she would talk to like that. At times in the office, she quickly steals a moment where her mind wanders. I am guessing that place is not so good, coz when she thinks no one’s looking, I see her drop a tear on her desk. I wish I could change that story, I feel it is a sorry one, coz it bothers her. I wonder if I should talk to her. Maybe that would cheer her up.

So, I give her a moment and casually walk up to her and say hello. She settles herself and replies in a perfectly composed voice. I ask how she’s doing and she says Great. Surprised with myself, I tell her, I know you are not okay. She looks at me intently for a minute and I understand, She says it’s okay, she’s working it out.

I understand. Her personal space is hers. Coz somehow in her mind; she knows, she is stronger till the time no one knows her flaws, insecurities or weaknesses. I understand why she thinks people won’t understand. Coz people look at the smokescreen that all of us live in and decide, her life is so full, so beautiful, what else could she want. But on the inside, she is lonely, with no one to talk to, no one to share. I understand.

So, I tell her this, If you ever find yourself at a spot where you need help and someone to talk to, I will be happy to help. She smiles and says thank you– that broken smile.

Today, I actually look at her. She is so pretty but I see, the corners of her eyes, which say she hasn’t slept so well. The ruined mascara, that tells that she cried herself to sleep last night. I wish that she gets okay.

Then she stopped coming to office. For days I did not see her. And then one day, she walks up to me and asks if I am still willing to listen. I nod and say yes. We sit in the cafe and she breaks down, she tells me her story between sobs, and frequent pauses, I recognise the hurt and the agony.

And I tell her, I understand. I understand the pain. We are all, of course, lonely in our struggles, we do not choose our battles, but everyone is in a battle nonetheless. So it’s okay, the choices, the regrets and the problems that come with it. There is you and there is the rest of us, all dealing with some baggage in our lives, and it will end, the pain will end. Someday, hopefully. Till then, you can always Share.

And for the first time in days, I see her smile, the kind of smile that reaches her eyes. We become friends. Not-the frivolous-small-talk kinda friends, but real ones, who understand. We share our hearts out; our problems, our silence, our strengths and our weaknesses. Eventually, the pain lessens, and she grows stronger, happier. And now she is the happier version of herself, one that people used to see on her Instagram stories.

Fin.

Leaving you with the wonderful song as inspiration:

Scars to your beautiful: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vWfjlIMiqBg