Written by Parker Gray – Portfolio
I hope no one ever calls you pretty.
You were meant to burn down the earth and graffiti the sky with particles of light – particles of yourself, particles of matter. You matter. Don’t ever let anyone simplify you to something as elementary as “pretty.” Not even me.
You will never be pretty. You will be the storm that rages and causes the waters of the sea to rise and propagate violently. You will be the rising sun when light is the only cure. And similarly, somehow, you will be the moon – controlling all that exists through some unparalleled paradox. Accompanied by only the greatest division of life and death, you will be remarkable and breathtaking. You are remarkable and breathtaking.
So you see, I hope no one ever calls you pretty. For they will never know how they have sincerely disgraced you and all that you are by generalizing you with such blanketed conformities. You weren’t meant to be pretty.
And if I promise to always see you as the stars in the sky, the ones you cannot see, will you promise to fight like hell to hear the wind when the walls that surround you have all been boarded up?
You deserve the love that most people don’t believe in anymore. They’re all so pretty. And you weren’t meant to be pretty.