I don’t believe in ‘ugly’: it doesn’t exist in living things. Ugliness is man made. And you weren’t made from man: you’re made of blood and earth and all of the lights in the sky. And those things could never be ugly.
“I want a family again, but I don’t belong here: I’m a danger and a burden to you. Just the thought that you would be better off without me makes me sick, sometimes. Because I know it’s true.”
“No it’s not, Benjamin!” I replied heatedly, though he just shook his head.
“I harm everyone I love. No matter what I do, they always get hurt. They always go away!” He closed his eyes, fighting back tears. “I only want to help, I only want to make the hurting stop, but every time I try it just gets worse!” His voice failed him, and he looked away from me.
Your life matters and will continue to matter despite who enters or leaves it along the way. And if that is not enough, remember that you have yourself. You are the one who drags yourself from bed every morning and quells the turbulent thoughts inside your brain when nobody else will. You are the one who breathes life into your veins and lives among the skin and bones that serve only as a shell and should never stand as any measure of worth. Nobody is preventing you from living and nobody is keeping you alive but yourself. Remember that, because sometimes being selfish is a beautiful, beautiful thing.
‘We destroy everything we touch: that’s the curse of being human.’
'Then choose to rebuild,’ he had told me. 'Choose to create.’
But is there really a difference? You cannot have one without the other. You must destroy a tree to make a canvas, and stain that canvas to create a painting. Destruction can be beautiful and creation ugly. All we can do is try our best to accept the consequences of our actions and hope destruction never becomes decay. Remove the shackles from your wrists, cast your eyes from the shadows to their sources, and never forget your own significance.
These little joys are ephemeral: they are not meant to last. So do not lock them up to rot: for what good is a garden if you leave it bare after winter comes? Just know that such beautiful things were once yours to love, and celebrate their wake with hope for more to come. While nothing ever really stays, still nothing ever goes.
We are capable of validating endless amounts of brutality and violence: how else could we continue to destroy our earth as we do now? The ability to justify our own cruelty is what makes us human. For what other beast need explain why he kills when he is no longer hungry?
We are satellites, we are made from blood and clay—we are the children of Gods, we are the builders of bridges and the destroyers of empires. We are ordinary miracles, the original sinners and the collectors of paradoxes. We are each grain of sand in an hourglass and the invisible lines that connect the constellations and make them what they are. We are finite and endless, immortal and temporary.
We are—you are—I am.
Remember that, because you are as vast as the sky and no-one can number every one of your stars.