BHS Inkwell 2017-2018

4. I am on a subway in New York, bones weary, head pounding along with the murmur of sonder and I am dizzy from a day of walking. I sit, leaning back and breathing in the rhythm of the city, and when I look up again, across from me sits a sandy haired boy with green headphones. You know that feeling when you fall in love with someone for just a glance, when you memorize the lines of their face like a messy sketch and feel a caricature of their humanity? Our eyes meet, just for a heartbeat of a moment— brown and green mixing into something new and nebulous, pulsing with the energy of our individual worlds—and then just like that the moment is over and I know that I will probably never see him again, but just for a second we shared an experience, an existence, just like any other stranger on this earth, and I know: We were beautiful.

5. I am watching the soapy water swirl around my aching feet, the shower burning away the day, and I can see each of the freckles on my legs.The water stops, the towel soft against my skin, and I see my hazy reflection in the foggy mirror, a ghostly silhouette with which I am all too familiar. Yet, even after wiping the glass, I stay out-of-focus, and I cannot see the bumps and scars on my arms, nor the angry red marks on my face. Not the scabs on my too-sharp shoulders, not the blood under my fingernails, not the jagged limbs peppered with imperfections I know by heart. I just see my eyes, weary, oceanic, deep with the glow of untold stories, and for a moment I can forget my doubts and think: I am beautiful.

Hannah Stafford

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