If You Could Only See Yourself through my Eyes

Your words spill out carelessly, as if a sigh of exhaustion from simply being yourself. Your gaze is cast downward, as if it hurts to face the world ahead. You say that there seems to be a light emanating effortlessly from all the people you see, how they shine with so much ease. It’s like they have a way with words, with how they act, believing they hold something you lack–ever dwelling on how special they all are, something you wish you had.

Your thoughts precede you, as if doubt instinctively wraps itself around you, drawing you into the deceptive comfort of your insecurities. It makes me wonder why it’s easy to notice the best of everyone, while you can only see the worst in yourself.

Amidst the crossroads of life where the noise of footsteps, voices, and heartbeats of other people are all you hear, lest you know that to me–yours does not fade into silence.

Ever thought of how museums are decorated with intricately carved statues, of how timeless songs carry a different tune but all the same message? The muses who breathe inspiration into the greatest works of art are mere flesh and blood, yet within them burns a light that stirs the soul. Perhaps, it was never about perfect angles or having no flaw, but rather the perspective one holds.

In you, I see that same brilliance, a spark that is the very manifestation of art itself. Though names may fade and slip through the cracks of time, what endures on the canvas and in the stone are raw, unfiltered emotions–expressions of love, longing, and the urge to share one's soul with the world. The true masterpiece lies in loving through creation, expressing without fear.

And I may be no artist to capture the way your eyes lighten up when you talk about something you love, nor a sculptor to carve the gentle lines that form whenever you smile. But if you could see yourself through my eyes, you would know that you are loved in ways that stretch far beyond any fleeting idea of beauty. It is in the way you stop mid-walk to pet a stray cat, the laugh you let out in the most random of moments, the way you stand by your friends through their highs and lows, and the relief felt by your parents everytime you come home safely. It lingers in the ripples of your existence, sending waves through lives that were better with you in it.

“But what if I’m not worthy of it all?” You ask. I laugh and say, “that’s not for you to decide.”

And maybe that’s just the way it is–to be loved more than we would ever know.

For you are not simply the sum of your features, but a reflection of everything you've been and everything you are becoming. Love finds you in whispered words and tender gestures, and if you could only see yourself through my eyes, you would see that you are already an abundance of it.