The Nightlight

Thoughts before bed

Month: May, 2016

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Her Lady stepped inside the building that was once her palace. It smelled of old paper and wood, a scent that was very nostalgic for her.

“Where are we going next, my Lady?” the shoes asked.

Her Lady took a few more steps onto the newly polished and waxed marble floor before responding, “To the next chapter.”


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“Don’t you miss home, my Lady?” asked her old and worn out shoes in a tiresome tone. They rested for a bit, letting the summer breeze mess Her Lady’s hair.

“I do,” replied Her Lady, “but if I stay all my life inside four walls, then how can I properly understand life?”

The Nightlight Series: Beauty, part 2

I know that I focus too much on the other stuff, but that does not mean that I do not think about my appearance.

Yes. I’ve heard it over and over again, physical appearance fades, its what’s inside that matters. What if I’m not beautiful outside and also inside? What kind of ugliness do I possess then?

How do I know if people really like me for who I am? What if they’re talking about me behind my back saying really mean things that all that’s left to do is to kill me?

I’m such a hypocrite. I admit. For saying to others that “looks don’t matter”, or that “I don’t really think of myself as ugly” because in reality it is my biggest insecurity. My looks. How others looks at me. How they think of me. Do I look fat? I should look slim, smart, decent, pretty, and happy. But it doesn’t end there. My insecurities doesn’t just end on my looks. I think to myself that if I want to look smart, I also have to be smart, so I have this constant urge to always make sure that I get high grades. I think to myself that if I want to look like a nice and sweet girl, I have to look the part. I have to be nice to everyone, I have to reach out to others. It’s a need. It’s my need. For me to be happy.

But at the end of the day, because of my struggle on wanting to be smart, I end up getting uglier because I haven’t gotten to take care of myself. At the end of the say, pleasing everyone didn’t really make me happy, it just tired me even more.

Am I ugly now? Because reaching out, as much as I am genuinely enjoying it, I’ve realized isn’t really my thing? That when I come home the first thing that I think about is how tired I am?

Am I ugly now? Because all I really cared about is how people see me on the outside? That the reason I’m pushing myself to the limit when it comes to school is because I’m trying so hard to hold on to this status that I was able to build and not really learn?

Am I ugly now? Because the reason I act all nice and girly is because I want people to notice me? I want to please them, to make sure that I’m always on their good side?

How ugly I am. Both inside and most especially out.

How selfish I am. The passion to serve has died.The fire of the mission has died. And I think that no matter what training I go to, when I go home, it won’t be the mission I’ll be thinking about, busying myself about.

How selfish I am, to want to be beautiful. I’m such a hypocrite to say that I don’t care about my looks.

I’m worried on these kinds of things, that is why I am ugly.





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“How beautiful, don’t you think?” Her Lady said as she was taking in every detail of the picture.

“Yes, certainly.” replied the shoes, “Madame is a role model to the young women after all.”

The lights adjusted and Her Lady shifted her stance and sighed, “Madame never fails to haunt me.” she said in a very disheartened tone, “How failure of a lady am I?”

“Do not be discouraged, my Lady. Everyone is different. You are every bit of a lady as Madame, it is just that you have a different manner of showing it.”

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The paintings, despite being trapped in their frames and mirrors, were loudly chattering. Each had a story they wanted to tell, but Her Lady was only one, and she could not possibly listen to each of them. Nevertheless, she did. It was this aspect of her that made her so amazing; that no matter how little she had or how tired she was, she was always ready to give everything for the sake of others.

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She looked up at the building that was once her palace.

“How long has it been since you’ve been here, my Lady?” the shoes asked.

“I don’t know.” Her Lady replied. “He hasn’t been sending messages for a long time.”

“It is never too late for you to be the first to reach out, my Lady.”

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Out in the grassy land they stopped, Her Lady’s skin soaking in the sun.

“Here.” she told her old and worn out shoes, “We begin here.”

She did not know where she was going, but it did not matter. What mattered was that she found a beginning, and the rest will surely soon follow.