Everybody is Beautiful.

"Every once in a month, my sister and her kids used to come and stay for a couple of days at our home. Me, being the kids' only aunt, always had to be the prop for all their games. Most of the games they play are pretty boring, considering the fact that I was a seventeen-year-old and baking cakes using only tiny plastic utensils and no ingredients never strikes to be too entertaining.

But there was one that fell into the exception category. A game with pillows. It was nothing violent like a pillow fight (just mentioning to not create any triggered parents). In this, they made me lay down on the bed and arranged the pillows all over me.

I never knew what sort of pleasure a game as such offered them, but I sure did know that I never wanted it to end. They'd leave me that way for hours as they went on playing around me and I wouldn't even fall asleep. I was in complete darkness while it lasted. But it was nothing like not being able at sleep at night. It was different.

At night, when I couldn't sleep, I'd go on imagining things. Fantasies. Wishes that would never come true. But when I lied this way, I analysed. I analysed myself, my life, the people around me and the way they acted and treated me. I analysed why certain incidents happened the way it did. I felt bad sometimes. I cried sometimes. But I was always grateful for the time.

I had never talked to anyone about this. Well, that is also because I had nobody that I could talk to. My only best friend ever, was my sister. We shared the strongest of bonds. She was a blessed one. Lots of friends to spend time with, popularity, beauty and brains all in one. But she still never left me behind. I knew that it was just out of pity for me but she would never agree to that. She said that she spent time with me and cared for me and loved me, all because I meant the world to her and that she  would rather spend a night with me than years with her friends. But I was not foolish enough to believe all that. After all, why would someone so great, want to spend time with a wannabe like me at their own will?

I was nice while it lasted. Later, she got married and went out of town with her husband. She used to call me every day to ask how my day was and stuff but I'd just let the conversation pass. I didn't want her to be wasting her time talking to me. Maybe, she too didn't want to waste her time but she never wanted to make anybody feel bad and that was the reason she called me. I mean, what other reason to call me, right?

She also had a boyfriend. Something that I wouldn't have dared to even imagine. I did have a crush though. A hardcore one. A guy that lived across the street. He was in my school too. Almost every girl's crush. I too sort of caught myself in the crossfire. He had a solid built of about 6 foot 2, played in the basketball team, had green eyes and blonde hair and had the perfect character. Sounds like the dream boyfriend, doesn't it? I used to watch him through my room's window, during class and in the hallways and he would often look back at me and pass a smile. At this, I would freak out and look away. Why would he smile at me? I could say that he was laughing at me for being desperate about someone way out of my league.

He once asked me to go to prom with him. I mean, isn't there a limit to how much fun you can make of somebody?! I, obviously, rejected. Everybody seemed pretty astonished at my reply. They actually did think that I was a no-brains, didn’t they? He on the other hand was looking all heartbroken. No way I was falling for those petty expressions of yours, Gunner. 

As much as I wanted to say yes, I couldn't risk being the laugh of the school. He was, of course, considered a gentleman but this behaviour said otherwise. Gentlemen treat people gently, not break their hearts. I spent the rest of the day in my bedroom, crying. When mom found me curled up in my blankets with bloodshot eyes, she went half paranoid. It was funny, in a way, to see her like that. I explained to her that the cause of my despair was a boy asking me to prom which got her all too confused. When I elaborated, she got furious and proceeded to call his parents. Luckily, they didn't attend the phone but the luck didn't last for long. She quickly put on some shoes and went to their house. Upon returning, she claimed to have found an utterly heartbroken Gunner there.

She always wanted to get me to laugh and therefore, was going on and on about how he looked like a whimpering puppy that had lost a paw. But, as always, she did finally succeed in getting to light me up. Even though I knew none of those were true, her metaphors always had an irresistable amount of humor in them. Cracked me up every time.

Sometimes when I was having a good time with my parents, I would wonder what made them choose me out of all the other kids in the orphanage. They already had a daughter so why adopt another one? Even if they would, why me? Why not someone that looks more like them? They told me that it was because when they entered my foster home, I was the most adorable and well-behaved child to catch their eye. I still doubt whether that was the actual reason.

I love my parents and I am thankful for everything they have done for me, every day of my life. It's just that I didn’t want them to feel that they should have taken a different child home. I never wanted to let them down but yet, at times when I looked at our family photos, I felt like I did. I felt like I didn’t match. Maybe they were ashamed of me but they never showed it. They have always loved me for myself and I am more than just happy to call myself their daughter. But sometimes, people don’t believe when I say who my parents are. That’s understandable. I look nothing like them. They are all beautiful people, unlike me.

Not just these, many people in my life, almost all of them treated me nicely. I didn’t want all that pity. I knew that I was dark. I knew that I was not pretty. I knew that no person of color was pretty. I had accepted my fate and therefore, did not need these people treating me with such care. It was understandable when bullies picked on me or when they called me midnight. I deserve that. When I stood in front of the mirror, I knew that I deserved every bit of dislike that I did not get. I knew it when I ran my hands through my curly hair. A lot of people told me that I am beautiful and that I have nice hair but I knew that they were either lying or just saying it to not make me feel bad about myself.

Honey, I thought I 'knew' all these things. But now I know that, in reality, those were thoughts that I made on my own. The people around me who 'pretended' to love me, actually did. When they said I was beautiful, they meant it. When they spent time for me, it was because they wanted to. When my parents adopted me, they did think that I was adorable. It was me who couldn't see why they would do all those. The only person that couldn’t see the beauty in me was me alone. Everyone else did. My sister did, Gunner did, my parents did and so did everybody who was around me.

You know why I couldn’t see it? Because I spent a lot of time looking at my face that I forgot to look at myself. I forgot to remember that there was a light shining beneath all that darkness that covered my face. I made the complexion of my skin, the sole definition of myself. I still laugh at the amount of attempts it took Gunner in making me believe in myself and I shall forever love him for that.

Tomorrow is your first day of school and all I want to tell you is that we all love you. You may be dark or light, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is how you look at the world and how you treat it. Maybe, the world might not be too pleased by you or your appearance but as long as you know you did good, you have nothing to worry about. People may call you ugly but remember that it's just because they are jealous. After all, you are the Champion Gunner's daughter, right? They may call you 'midnight' but you should know that you are a starry night with all the light of the stars beaming bright underneath you.

Honey, maybe, you would never see your mother or have any memories with me. Maybe, the only bit you would have of me could be this recording. Maybe, I would leave this world whilst bringing you into it but, always remember that I am watching upon you from up here and for every second that you believe in yourself, I shall be the proudest mom that the world has ever known.

Love, HAZEL."