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All the years… Of trying to fit in with this skin that was so different from all the others… As stars burned off, when everyone wished for love, I wished for something else – a new me.

This skin I wore… It itched. It burned. Whenever eyes swept past me in derision, in mockery, I wished on the stars, for a girl who will not be me, yet me.
This difference, this skin, it made me feel vulnerable, fragile. I broke, into pieces, with just a single twitch of the eyes. With a second look, the pieces turned to ashes. I was the stranger in all their mirror, and the strangeness, it made a mark that couldn’t be erased.

I was a broken girl, wishing for impossible, when my dreams stood away, waiting for me to go to them, to wish for them.

I was a faded sepia of who I once was.

And then one day, I dreamed of myself. Dancing and singing and glowing.

I felt brave in that dream. I was bold and alive and vivid.

And the skin, my skin shimmered like stars. I wore constellations in my hair, a crown so majestic. I danced in the silver light and silence and I carried the songs of stars and old folk tales in my fingers. My eyes were the planets of this eternal Universe. I was a galaxy in itself.

I was beautiful.

Someone told me that crows would call peacocks ugly. Someone with metaphorical wings. Someone told me that the beauty of my skin, it was unique and special and beautiful, nonetheless. That I should not wish for another, because this here, it was me. And that someone touched my skin, with love and prayers and respect.

This was me. With all the flaws, and still unique and exquisite.

The next morning, I woke up. And the skin, it doesn’t burn anymore or bother me. I have learnt my lessons.
Now this skin I wear, it is my priority. It is my pleasure.
Now I see the dots of thousands stars in my dark skin, that shimmers in their dark souls.
My skin is dark, but my heart, it is as white as the cloud.
Now I love myself, and maybe they will forever hate me, but the star that I am, don’t give a shit anymore.

I love myself and people I love, love me, the way I am and…

That is enough, for me.

That is enough.

Because brown/black is beautiful, too.


Read more on skin colors… And True beauty.

Skin color doesn’t define beauty.

2 thoughts on “Skin made of Starshine…

  1. I guess everyone has wished at least once in their lives to be someone else. We instead of focusing on our talents, our happiness, always get trapped in other people’s expectations from us. I hope your writing works as an eye opener for others. Loved it.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That is true. We tend to try to appease everyone and we have to know it is not possible. But knowing that, it takes time. I hope my writing helps someone in anyway, as well. Thank you.


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