To all the people who feel like they're not good enough,
to all the people who feel disgusted of what they are,
to all the people who feel unloved,
to all the people who feel worthless,
to all the people who aren't what others expect them to be,
to all the people rejected, ignored, and beaten down by the world,

I dedicate this to you. 

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A young girl wandered through the busy streets, lost in her own world. The sun was setting earlier than usual, causing the five o’clock sky to look clad with shades of pink, blue, and orange. The leaves of oak trees that were once green now transformed to a light brown and she blankly watched them break off of their branches and gracefully float to the ground. 

She wandered on, allowing her feet to roam freely to wherever they desired, until they decided to come to a halt in the middle of a park. She peeked at her surroundings, observing the place where she magically appeared. She made her way toward an empty bench and brushed off some debris before sitting down, setting her belongings next to her. Leaning back, she exhaled an exhausted sigh.

 

——————

 

Suddenly, an outburst of voices and objects clanging against each other broke out, catching the girl’s attention. She turned her head and gazed over her shoulder, curiosity tempting her to take a peek. With squinting eyes, she noticed a crowd of people gathered at the other side of the park holding cameras, lights, and a rack of very stylish outfits. 

“Must be a photo-shoot,” mumbled the girl, sitting up straight. Her eyes were kept on a group of women, maybe containing around five to six of them. It was obvious they were the models starring in the photo-shoot; they were breathtakingly beautiful. She gaped at them as she realized some of them were familiar faces of the front covers of fashion magazines. They were so gorgeous. Better looking than her. They were queens while she was a peasant.

However, she noticed something a little off. They weren’t as tall as they appeared in magazines nor were they as tan or skinny. Not that they weren’t skinny already, but they seemed thinner in pictures. Her eyebrows furrowed as she analyzed the different causes.

Then, it hit her. She pressed her lips into a thin line, causing her expression to appear disappointed. She caught glimpse of make-up kits and laptops and finally realized. She chuckled dryly and fought the urge to roll her eyes. Make up. Photoshop. What else could the reasons have been? It was the media we’re talking about. It doesn’t matter how beautiful you are to them.

The girl heaved a disappointed sigh and turned away. It’s a shame. Even the prettiest humans alive aren’t good enough for media. Then she thought… If they weren’t good enough, then what was she? She reached over to her bag and fished out a small journal. She skimmed through the thin pages until she came to a new one and clicked her pen. She tapped her chin, pondering on what to write. Then, her hand subconsciously began spilling words onto the blank paper, her own thoughts fogging up her mind.

 

“Beauty: One word. Six letters. Two syllables. Yet, something as small as this has great power. 

Power to cause damage, scars, and wounds. 

Beauty judges. Beauty rules. Beauty controls.

Beauty will taunt you, take you captive, hurt you, and scream the hurtful truth at you. 

Until in the end, your whole life will crumble and fall,

As you seek for Beauty, work for Beauty, plead for Beauty,

Want to be Beauty.

 

I am not Beauty nor any type of beauty.”

 

Her hand came to a pause and she set her pen down and moved her journal aside. She slouched into the bench and watched the sun slowly fall back into the horizon to hide behind the mountains and hills in the distance. 

 

——————

 

Meanwhile, a young boy lazily strolled by a park, gazing at the setting sun, soaking in the last of its warmth and light. He greeted strangers with a warm smile and smiled even wider when they greeted him back. He softly eyed the fallen leaves that swept across the earth as the wind blew gently, also blowing his hair to the front of his face. He chuckled lightly and brushed his hair back to its original style before sticking his hands in his pockets, continuing his journey through the park.

The boy skidded to a stop when he noticed a crowd of beautiful models. He smiled widely as he watched them pose and smile for the two or three cameras that were constantly snapping shots of them. His smile fell slightly as he caught a look in the camera crew and models’ eyes. The camera men had a glint of un-amusement while the models had a gleam of nervousness. Or maybe… Insecurity? He hurried over to the photo-shoot area and kindly greeted them. He stared in awestruck at the models.

“You ladies are very beautiful,” he complimented and winked, causing the models to flush a deep pink. They sheepishly thanked him and he bid his goodbye, striding his way to a bench across the park where he could watch the photo-shoot event from afar.

He took a seat on the bench and peered at all sides surrounding him. He set his hand beside him to lean on and immediately pulled back, a bit surprised. His eyes shifted down to see a journal lying on the bench. He looked back up to see if there was anyone nearby that would claim it, but no one seemed to pay attention.

“Looks like someone forgot their notebook,” he spoke to himself, eyeing the book. He picked it up, examining the covers of it, checking if there was a name or phone number written to contact. Unfortunately, there was no information of the person. Sighing in defeat, he gently placed the book back down where it was. 

The boy stared at the journal, conflicted. Curiosity took over him the longer the book remined unclaimed. But he knew better than to touch another’s belongings, whether it was personal or not. He continuously reached out his hand and then pulled back, his conscience arguing with itself.

He placed his hand on the book and sighed, praying that this was the only time he would snoop in other people’s privacy. Yeah right. Slowly, picking up the journal, he brushed through the pages, admiring the person’s neat handwriting and creative doodles. He turned to the most recent page. He noticed the entry’s date was the same as the present day he was in, so he assumed that the owner of the notebook was just at the park.

He read the page, word for word, his eyebrows furrowing and his heart dropping to his stomach. The sorrow this person must be going through. The words that were traced spoke nothing but the horrid truth of the world. He felt a pang of realization hit him roughly. Sadness washed over him as he repeatedly read the last sentence. 

 

“I am not Beauty or any type of beauty.”

 

He grabbed a pen also lying on the bench and began scribbling words at the bottom of the page. He poured his thoughts onto the paper, meaning every single word he wrote.

He slammed the book shut and set it next to him. Suddenly, his phone rang and he quickly fished it from his jacket pocket, sliding the answer button.

"Neh, Himchan hyung."

"Youngjae-yah! Yongguk wants us all home, so please hurry back."

"Neh, on my way."

He stood up, heading out of the park as the sky was growing dark, but before exiting, he peered over his shoulder, glancing at the book once more, hoping that the owner would come back.

 

——————

 

The girl sprinted off the bus, panting heavily as she raced passed people on the streets. She rushed her way around, pushing people while yelling several “sorry”s. The sky was covered by darkness and she was already more than halfway home when she was digging through her bag, searching for her journal. She gasped when realized she must have left it back at the park and immediately screamed “STOP!” at the bus driver and zoomed out the door. Now here she was, bolting her way back to the park, praying that her book was still there, untouched and unread.

She entered the park, frantically searching all around for the bench and her book. Finally, she skidded to a stop, almost slipping, as she immediately reached for her book the moment she found it. She exhaled breathlessly and panted, hugging her journal to her chest.

 

——————

 

The girl leaned her head against the bus window, closing her eyes for a brief moment. Then, she opened the book, skimming through the pages. Her eyes widened as she noticed words written in different handwriting. Curious and a bit nervous at what to expect, she read it. She softened at the words, smiling softly, tears filling the brim of her eyes. She gazed at the window, seeing her faint reflection, the corners of her lips twitching upwards. Then, she glanced at the starry sky with her spirits lifted and a warm heart. “Thank you,” she quietly whispered. ;

 

“Salutations, dear owner of this journal,

I apologize for invading your personal space, I couldn’t resist. 

I’d like to say a few words to you, if that is alright.

 

Beauty is only skin deep. Beauty is not forever. 

Beauty is an illusion, an eye trick.

It can be altered, it can be lost. 

Beauty is not invincible.

 

But what is with you forever, what is more deep than skin, what is invincible is

The warrior that lead you through this harsh world,

The fighter that helped you live this far,

The hero that saved you from the monsters of reality. 

That is more important than Beauty.

 

Imperfections, scars, wounds 

Show the universe the war that you are at with society,

Shows everyone and everything that you are strong, 

No matter how hard life hits you, beats you, and tears you down.

You shine brighter than the moon, the sun, and the stars combined. 

 

So fret not.

You are not alone.

You were never alone in this hell we call reality.

In this reality constantly swallowed up by wealth, appearance, and popularity.

What’s inside matters so much more,

Even if the media doesn’t notice, society doesn’t notice,

And if you never notice.

Although,

The world would be a better place if you realized how beautiful you are.”