There once was a girl whose enemy was a mirror. She stood in front of it everyday and stared into the familiar features she had had her whole life. Her eyes were drawn to a wide forehead, long, sloping nose, slit-like lips.
Her eyes themselves were muddy-brown, nothing special. She didn't conform to the 'perfect body shape'. No curves graced her figure, neither was she built like an athlete. She was a plain old Jane Doe. Nobody spared her an extra glance.
There were people in this world who lived off tormenting others on their insecurities. To them, it was all but a game. Find out someone's weakness and use it against them.
Now, their reasons may be questionable, but one stood out. They themselves were insecure. Making others feel bad about themselves made the bullies feel better in turn. They held power in their hand and used every minute to flaunt it.
There was once a boy like that. He saw the girl walking home one day and she decided to take a shortcut by the river. He eagerly followed, his mind already whirring, the clogs already churning to think of new insults to say. He approached her stealthily, all the while with a gleam on his face.
Then, once she had sat down and leaned against a tree, did he strike. "You know what's the difference between your face and a cowpat. Nothing!" "Are you adopted? Your parents could never have a child as ugly as you!"
All the while the girl sat there, cowering in on herself as the boy's voice filled her ears. She gripped onto the grass and let the tears she had been holding back, spill over and coat her face. Happy with his feat, the boy strolled away with the same smile on his face.
The next day he came to school with the intention to tell his whole friends. Maybe, if he was lucky, they knew already. Straight-away, he could tell the atmosphere was different.
Whispers followed him like an unwanted aroma, fingers were pointed and his name was thrown around. Trepidation entered him, but curiosity kept him walking.
Very soon, he saw tears from a group of people. He went over to them as they turned around, noticing him. "What's wrong with everyone? Why are they all looking at me like that?" He began to feel insecure.
"She was beautiful, you hear me?", a girl screamed. He recognized her as a friend of the girl he teased yesterday. "You called her ugly and now she's gone." "Gone where?", he asked.
"SHE'S DEAD! BECAUSE OF YOU! SHE KILLED HERSELF!" He couldn't breathe. His eyes filled with tears and his heart with guilt. She was dead, because of him. A person had died, because of his words. Because of his petty attempt at power.
He ran out, all the way to the river where he first met the girl yesterday. It was closed off, as a crime scene. She had drowned herself. Filled her pockets with stones and walked into the river.
He sat next to the tree which was a little further away from the river. He heard a crinkling when he seated himself. It was a letter.
He opened it and began to read, tears blurring out his eyes. It read, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
He opened it and began to read, tears blurring out his eyes. It read, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Then why didn't he see it in me?..."
... Beauty is not how we look, but how we treat others. That is what sets us apart. Please remember that before judging others.
Thanks for reading. That's Iqra... OUT.