Words have become so cheap…
so…
worthlessly similar.
And I think we are falling down that path, as well.
I see people falling under labels and settling there…setting up camp, even.
“Love.
Awesome.
Beautiful”.
Read these words.
What comes to mind?
Some girl you took to prom last year… “Oh yeah, she was hot”.
Or maybe your wife; that’s sweet… “Yeah. I love my wife”.
But what about a flower?
“Yeah… flowers are pretty.”
No.
I mean, the idea
and process
and being of a flower.
Flowers are pretty, yes.
But referring to such an elegantly graceful piece of art as “pretty” and expecting it to suffice is rather insulting, don’t you think?
And if you call flowers “pretty” and then you call the girl that sits across from you in Math “pretty” and your mom “pretty”…what makes them different, at all?
Because to me, just from what I know about them (that they’re pretty), all I can say is that they’re pretty similar (pun intended).
Why do we stop at such an artificial page in our thoughts?
Things become routine and then we start to place things in folders and categorize them and label things to be more important than others and more beautiful than others.
But why can’t we come up with another folder, huh?
Why must she be prettier than me?
And if she is in fact “pretty”, then I don’t want to be pretty.
I want to be something else; something that only I can be because I am me.
She can be “pretty”, sure. But WHY is she pretty?
Tell me something other than her face-value.
Maybe she’s pretty because every time she walks by, it is as if she drops off another butterfly that floats right into your stomach.
Maybe she’s pretty because she can’t go into Target without buying another Eos chapstick even though she has at least one of every color.
Maybe she’s pretty because her shirt fits her a little beyond “just right” and you see the stars on her face in the form of freckles, with her smile being the sun.
Why call a girl “pretty”, when you can tell her why?
