The day after the worst day i was beautiful.
i woke up in the morning and looked in the mirror at a person i didn't recognize. i stared into the mirror at a glowing young woman, with feeble eyes and an understated harmony... but at the moment all i could see/comprehend of myself were the physical differences; (i.e. bright eyes, clear skin and the best hair day of my life)
and up until this weekend i'd chalked it up to terrible irony and a great deal of adrenaline..
and then it was presented to me in a new way; perhaps my physical appearance that day (that whole first month really) was a reflection or a reminder of the child of God i still was, even after the worst day.
i've seen a lot of beautiful things, but few can contend with the tears that are the only way to celebrate a glimpse of the worth of a soul.
i may just be the luckiest girl in the world.