I was supposed to be beautiful. To be beautiful is always the point.
In the beginning, hopes were high. I have no doubt they had the best of intentions. Every part of me was born from the things they love. Their dream was clear, their control absolute. Beauty was inevitable.
Or so they thought.
Early on, things seemed to go wrong. No matter what they tried, I couldn’t fit into their well laid plans. Big ideas wilted in my presence. The little parts of me they adored only irritated when brought together. Their imagination’s eye was blurry at best.
They worked hard to fix me. Over and over, I was dismantled. With each new iteration, results improved, but I had to be reconfigured more than once. My edges were fraying. I couldn’t keep my shape with so much extra handling.
I became a problem to be solved. They reconsidered and reimagined every aspect of my being, refusing to accept me as I was. Compromises had to be made. They clung to the hope that in the end, I would be good enough.
When they finally decided on my true colours, I was allowed to grow. Though I was far from a triumph, I was no longer considered a failure. They were confident that I could be worthy of a discerning gaze. Eventually, I might be called pretty.
As I lay on the verge of completion, they took a moment to survey their creation and marvel at the overlooked mess of my embattled insides. It was a revelation. The underside of me that laid bare the evidence of my making and re-making had become more beautiful than the intended masterpiece. The delicate, frazzled version of myself so thoroughly seduced my maker, they committed to find a way for me to thrive in this perilous mode.
But surely I could not be asked to exist in the world like this. It would inevitably lead to my unraveling. Turned inside out, I would be too fragile, forever disarmed. Without proper covering, every touch would cause incremental, irrevocable damage. The chaos of my inner workings was only meant to sustain the ordered, outward view.
And yet here I am. They shored up my defences as best they could. I have not been made invincible, but if handled gently, I can withstand more than you think.
