Psyche Talks

— Votré Sincérement | Eolleji

Even before you noticed, even before you were born. The content poured into that lifeless vessel, had always possessed the laudability you've been searching for.

You've admired them portraits of maidens and statues of goddesses whose pulchritude is astounding to an extent of considerable preposterous; with you neglecting the mystique that you had—something no deity or figments of imagination can ever obtain.

The marks of agony and residue of paints from artworks you've made were left plastered all over your body, and you saw it as a mess—something that should be stripped off—whilst wanderers searching for inspiration saw you as the epitome of perfection.

You've envied them sleek skins of lassies with their sophisticated physiognomies, slim bodies, and slender legs—thinking how unreachable they are, neglecting the fact you're a flower as well—manifesting its own beauty that mesmerizes every flutterby that's tired of the same faces it had seen.

The vessels are mere carriers of the treasure dwelling inside for the beauty of the mortal fades as time takes it toll. And you'd regret living your life admiring others rather than praising and loving yours for the next time you check your photos, you'd tell yourself, "I should've looked at the camera and smiled more, rather than this—all of its capture had me staring at somebody else's image."