Beneath Your Beautiful

In a world where people suffer in silence, silence is not always golden. Silence, sometimes, is the poison that a person swallowed to conceal their pain. That way, they can deal with their problems themselves. But when has dealing-with-problems-yourself gone too far? People bottle their frustrations because they think no one will understand what they feel. So they never tell the whole truth when asked. There's always a part of the story that is redacted. Why do we do this? Why have we made it a habit to leave out some details of our painful experiences when narrating them to the world? This was the conversation going on in my head as I sat facing the ocean before this beautiful woman interrupted me.

With nothing between us and the sky, the evening breeze was cool and refreshing. The ambiance of The Rooftop is not comparable to another. The atmosphere permitted me to reflect, and I took it. It was no surprise that I was unaware of who was around me being someone who is easily lost in thought. I am not accustomed to sharing moments like these out of my head, but I had to.

"Do you come here often?" she asked.

Why would she ask me that? She could be an assassin for all I care. While I know it's not unusual for people to break the ice with questions like that, I've just never grown comfortable with answering them. Overcoming such feelings of suspicion requires a high level of self-awareness. Awareness of when those feelings manifest. Many of us have had experiences that led us to keep to ourselves. Now we trust no one with the most trivial of information. We trust no one with our space. We trust no one with our time. Who do we blame? Do we blame the experience for making us that way or ourselves for not having enough strength to let it go? If we had the power to let go, we would have. But we don't, so we hold on to them. And the longer we ignore the hold they have on us, the harder it becomes to do away with their effect. So the walls we built around us become bigger and harder to break down over time. Now we need more strength to overcome them than we did when we first built them. Where do we get that strength? I don't know. What I do know, however, is that the strength to break down those walls won't come from ignoring them.

Anyway, after a few seconds, I answered, "No, I don't come here often."

"Neither do I," she said.

We then talked about how beautiful the place was, how serene the environment was, and more topics along that line. We went as far as speculating about how much it cost to develop such a place. Believe me, I hardly talk about such trivialities, but I indulged her. After that, she inquired about where I'm from. It turned out that we are from, and grew up in the same state. I sensed the relaxation in her voice after that bit of information was revealed. She felt freer to talk. Mind you, at this point, I was itching to go back into my head. She was distracting.

After a while, she gave a compliment, "You seem like a nice person," with a slight smile on her face. I acknowledged the compliment even though I felt bad about it since I didn't want to talk. That's not me being nice. I realized that her conclusion was a result of my actions; I paid rapt attention. She judged my niceness by how well I treated her. If only she knew what went on in my head.

All my longing for solitude disappeared when she asked her next question. "What kind of man do you want to be?" The question took me aback. It is a strange question to ask a stranger. Who does that? I thought about my answer for a while, although I was partly ready since it is something I think about often.

"I want to be a man whose life inspires a generation," I said as our eyes squared up. "I want to be a father whose children look to him like a city looks to a hero. I want to be a husband whose wife feels blessed every day to have him. I want to be a man whose presence brings joy to his community. I want to be a friend who is always there when needed. I want to be a leader who cares about his people. I want to be a man whose word is his bond, a man who keeps his promises, a man who speaks the truth even when a lie would be expedient. I want to be a man whose heart is at peace with his decisions, and his choices are made with conviction." The words slid through my lips. It took a while before I realized how much I had said.

"...there’s no point owning fast cars if my heart that is always racing."

"Well, maybe I have," I said. "I could say that I want to be the richest man in the world because I'd love that, but I also want to be happy. I could say that I want to own a company that employs hundreds of people because I do, but I also want to bring joy to the faces of those people. I could say that I want to own the biggest houses and the fastest cars because I do, but there's no point owning fast cars if it is my heart that is always racing. I've thought about these things and concluded that what I truly want is peace."

"But you can have all those things and have peace of mind, can't you?

"Of course, you can!" I said. "Success is not a substitute for peace. It has never been, and it will never be. But for this to be true, you have to ensure that you consider your peace of mind in your decisions. There's already a measure of precision in your decision when you consider your peace when making them. That way, you're not choking under the weight of bad decisions." To my shock, I saw a tear roll down her eyes. I thought I had said something wrong, but she assured me I hadn't. Then she shared her story.

She had been married a few years. And in that time, her peace had been extinguished. She was living with a terrorist. Whatever love she had going into the marriage had been turned to hate. And that hate turned to fear. The Rooftop became an escape for her. An escape from reality. It was a way to limit the time spent with her husband. I was terrified. She said she was naive to marry him because he showed her that side of him before they got married when she asked him the question she asked me, "What kind of man do you want to be?" But it did not go down well with him. It became a serious issue, and he injured her because of it. Looking back, it was then she should have walked away. It is no wonder why it brought tears to her eyes when I answered the way I did. If a stranger could answer such a harmless question, why would a potential husband see something wrong with it? That was the beginning of the horror that came to be her life. Life gave her a sign, but she ignored it. She told me I gave her the answer to what she pondered on for a long time—whether to get a divorce. I must say at this point; I didn't intend to give her any advice. I merely responded to her question, but it struck a chord with her.

I'm not happy about her situation, but I'm happy I helped even though I didn't intend to. This is why we must always choose our words carefully. Our words should build people up. Our words can heal broken hearts we didn't know existed. When I sat alone, I thought about the number of people in the world suffering in silence. I didn't know I was sitting right next to one. It's amazing how the world gives us a role to play in the lives of other people. Some of them, we know. Others, we don't. Such a beautiful woman, very well put together. She sat there quietly, dying under the weight of a heavy burden looking for who to share it with. 

"Success is not a substitute for peace. It has never been, and it will never be"

How many people are chipping away amid life's crisis? They've become resentful of themselves and the world, and are now tired of it all. They're like zombies being pulled around by the troubles of life. They are walking dead, but think they're alive. So they put up a front to the world like everything is okay. It is not okay.

No one ever tells the whole truth about themselves. That's true. People won't easily divulge such information about their personal lives. Also true. It is a defense mechanism. But in listening to whatever is said, we should aim to listen and respond kindly. Speaking kindly needs no expertise. Just as listening attentively needs no certificate. But somehow, the world is thoroughly lacking those two skills. I didn't want to listen to that woman for the most part, but I listened long enough to get to where I could help her. It's impossible to know what people are going through if we can't care enough to listen to them, except they don't care if you're listening. I wish we could help ourselves heal in this manner. Putting up a front won't help you. It won't help your helper too. Be free enough with yourself so you can give room to those willing to help.

Finally, don't judge someone by their outward appearance. People are suffering. But we won't know this if we don't look beneath the surface. It is unfair to see someone who may need help and conclude that he doesn't. We have become experts at burying our pain so deep that we forget about them. But forgetting about them won't make them go away. Unless you dig them out and resolve them, they will affect you in ways you don't even know. Everyone is beautiful these days. I think it's called branding. Don't be fooled by it. It's just another way of pretending to be alright. 

“Would you let me see beneath your beautiful?

Would you let me see beneath your perfect?

We ain't perfect, we ain't perfect

Would you let me see beneath your beautiful tonight?” – Labrinth