A DIFFERENT KIND OF BEAUTY THAT YOU ARE - WITH COMMENTS

‘I am not so broken that I can’t be fixed’. I usually tell myself this when a room suddenly gets too dark, and my breath falls short. When my heart races by a mile in a minute because people keep staring at me awkwardly when I walk into buildings. I keep thinking that I must have some sort of signboard on my head, one that notifies the world of my past sins. Like a scoreboard during a sporting session put on display for viewers to watch and scream. But Tolu tells me that people look at me so much because I am beautiful. He tells me that even though I try to cover every layer of my beauty with different layers of weirdness; with my big-ass spectacles and the biggest clothes I can find to cover up every inch of my skin, I am still beautiful.

He seems to believe this a lot more than me, so I usually smile at his convictions and go along with his flow. This flow gave him the flexibility to write a whole poem trying to describe my beauty, which he reads to me every night.

Tonight is one of those nights.

We’re both tucked in on the couch and snug under a blanket. He pulls out the same old crumpled paper from his pocket and begins to read it while I listen closely to the peaceful heave and fall of his chest.

“You are pretty”. He starts. Then takes a pause before starting all over again. “Sorry. You are beautiful. Not just on the surface, although, that’s a splendid bonus”. He stops reading then and chuckles a little, more to himself than to me. For a brief moment, I see him stare at a distant memory across the living room. Definitely a naughty one, since that stupid side smile on his face just won’t fade away.

“You are beautiful, Tari,”. He continues, with reinforced tenderness now. “Because of your heart. The kindness that surges from it is as boundless as the sky, as pure as the morning’s first ray of sunlight”.

After the poem’s usual introduction, words take an interesting turn. I decide to close my eyes tonight and attempt reciting it with him. Shouldn’t be too hard to do, after 5 to 30 years of hearing him chant these words, in this same living room.

“It is because of your heart”. We go on together then, like salsa dancers seeking for unison in our steps — shaky at first, but falling into a familiar rhythm after a few tries. “It is because there is a certain innocence to the way you love. People. Things. Habits. Whatever it is. You love so directly, so intensely and yet, so freely. It is because of your heart that it is simply impossible for you to disappear, even though you crave to do so everyday. When you hide in the corners of a room or cower at the sight of people and voices, your heart sets a path for you to walk to the middle of the room, to capture every soul in it”.

Not sure of the next lines after this, I let him carry on reciting for a bit, so I can catch up with his sentences at the end, when one or two familiar lines decide to hit the fuzzy side of my brain. He notices my pause but carries on regardless.

“When you get ridiculed for being too abstract, too awkward for this mundane world, it is never because you are those things. It’s because you have a simplicity that is tender — so tender that it is extraordinary in a world filled with so much vile. The kind of beauty that people crave but cannot simply pluck out of thin air. The kind of beauty that draws people to you in so many ways. And, while I understand that this is both a blessing and a curse — even though it seems to be more of a curse to you — I want you to remember that there are people like me, who will strive endlessly, to keep your kindness sane. To keep your heart pure. To love you deeply. Even though my heart is nothing compared to yours. Even though my tenderness is your ego. Yet, I will keep competing to conjure the kind of love that is built for the different kind of beauty that you are, till I draw my last breath”.

Few minutes — or maybe hours — pass after we finish reciting the poem and I lay there in silence. Letting the words seep into my bloodstream. Letting memories envelope me, like rain beating my naked skin. Fragments of Tolu pulling me out of the fire and screaming for help. Fragments of me, clinging to the people who hurt me the most. Desperate to clean all the wounds I could find, while ignoring the maggots feasting on my own. Fragments of me begging for nods from strangers, before taking big steps.

And I begin to cry.

Not quietly, with the back of my hand pressed against my lips to stifle the sobs but loudly. Like a clog had finally been removed from the base of my throat and I’d discovered how to scream. Like the weight on my back had been removed and I could finally run. Like my stomach had loosened up and I could consume a feast.

After so many years of hearing these words pass over my head, this is the first time that I’d listened to it and finally understood.

If you've gotten this far, you're done with the story! Sugary words and romance aside, here's what I was really thinking when I wrote it:

The Disconnect Between Compliments and Self-Belief

Have you ever noticed how hard it is to truly believe the nice things people say about you? In the story, the main character struggled for years to internalize her partner's compliments—even though he wrote an entire poem for her and read it nightly. In 50 Secrets of Confident Communicators, Diana Mather explains that when we brush off compliments or struggle to believe them, it's usually because something inside us is running low—often self-esteem, self-worth, or confidence. The first step to breaking this cycle? Start by saying a few kind words to yourself. It may feel strange at first, but it makes it easier to believe others when they say the same.

Self-Acceptance is a Journey, Not a Destination

We all have off days and personal struggles. Let’s face it, it’s tough to bring 100% of your best self to every situation. In the story, the main character spends more time dwelling on her flaws than her strengths. But despite this, she keeps searching for some kind of middle ground with herself and eventually finds it in the simple and comforting words: “I am not so broken that I cannot be fixed.” While this phrase may seem dark at first, it’s far better than saying something abusive like “I’m up to no good” or “I cannot be fixed.” Over time, her persistence pays off—she starts to believe the kind words her partner has been saying for years. This shows that self-acceptance takes time, but it begins with allowing yourself to entertain even a small, positive thought. That’s the first step towards seeing yourself through a softer, more compassionate lens.

You're Worth More Than You Think—Even When It's Hard to Believe

Just because you can’t see your own beauty, value, or strength doesn’t mean they aren’t there. There’s usually more to you than you think. And when you can’t see it, trust the people who know and care about you to remind you of it. When they do, let yourself relish and accept it.

What takeaways did you get from the story? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments or in my DMs! Also, feel free to reach out if you have writing collaborations or ideas you'd like to share.

Thanks for reading!