There was a certain indescribable beauty of living rather than just surviving. Whereas surviving was trying not to die, focusing solely on trying to do things in order to survive, living was eminently different.
It was dancing in the soft moonlight at 12 a.m., breathless smiles being exchanged, laughing so hard until your stomach was aching. It was singing in the showers at the top of your lungs, staying up until dawn to see the sun rise from the horizon, turning the sky into millions of shades of pinks, reds and blues that looked like cotton candy.
It was eating that entire cake that society pressured you into not eating because beauty standards demanded that you had to be an hourglass with flawless skin. It was dyeing your hair a different color and screaming out song lyrics with your friends at three in the morning in a Waffle House. It was spending every second of the day doing the things that you love and not letting fear control your life.
It was smiling for the sole reason that you were living. That you were alive and you were breathing and you were free.
YOU ARE READING
The Beauty of Living | ON HOLD
Teen FictionIn which a girl runs away with an ill boy who only has a month to live after walking into the wrong hospital room. © 2019 maelin [on hold] TRIGGER WARNING: self harm, depression, anxiety
