She illuminated the world around her as she stood radiantly with a smile warm enough to sweat the sun itself. The vibrant hues–tinted rays being mirrored within the fluorescence of her eyes, glazing with unearthed dignity and strength. She looked vacantly as her every footstep followed a trail of mist, reflecting the inner worth and pride she once could not find. If she knew this was the ending, that this was the treasure, she would have ended this chapter sooner. However, at the time, she was determined to chase after the one thing she could not get–for seven years.
With desperation gnawing at her everyday, she was persistent in her search to see where the end would lead her. If she could run past seven years of those colorful hopes, perhaps she would find some semblance of achievement. So she chased the elusive dream until it became a chasm within a void. She began to notice that maybe this rainbow would just share its glisten if she had slim lines or curves that bloomed. And so she did–so she got.
There was nothing he could offer her: not his heart, a glance, not even one fleeting moment. And when the off chance that this occurrence would take place–where she would have adorned herself with painted colors plastered all over her visage, her body blazed of bare hints of skin, a slightly low-necked blouse, and melted wax to burn the skin off her shiny legs, it echoed a nuance of enchantment that belonged to her–the distant rainbow that finally sparked hope of what could be.
It all laid down on the heartache she received in his presence–one that she had never been pursued for. The breath he’d clog of hers–the same one he was able to dance freely with. The rainbow she would wake up til’ dawn for, aiming to rearrange all her features. The garments she forcibly tries to fit in, or the strands she demanded sit still on her roots, it was all in vain of these sleepless nights, for the rainbow that would not have beamed for even a second at the sight of her.
If you asked her at the hopeful age of thirteen why she was so infatuated with something that had given her nothing in return, she would have greeted your question with a blank stare before sighing and walking away. How do you talk to the gold that eludes you so? You wouldn’t understand.
Yet, did she?
It had been nearly three years of relentless chasing, and it seemed like a dead end with no signs of any minor completion. It struck her that she was pleading for the unattainable, pining for even a glimmer of hope, just one sign that she was getting closer. Perhaps even a single speck of gold–an acknowledgment of the distance she had already traveled. And yet, only the bright, vibrant colors of the rainbow were laid out under her feet.
She sighs, “Perhaps the fourth year.”
Maybe her desire will finally see the beauty affiliated within her. Maybe it will begin to spot the different wisps of hair she slightly parted away from each other–the ones that framed her face with grace—or the taste of delicacy residing on the hint of her rosey-shaded lips.
Perhaps her ethereal persona all this while was not enough. It was not her heart that was desired, but another’s. One that stood with different shapes–one that looked nothing like her. His enchantment rested on this gentle breeze–one that blew differently than hers; all while her love remained. But as she yearned for this touch of magic, a somber thought unpacks. Maybe these colors weren’t meant for her to enjoy, because we can’t carry belongings that never belonged to us in the first place. No matter how she painted the canvas that she had placed upon her figure, there was no end to this rainbow, and surely, she should leave it as that.
When things become unattainable, it gives a sense of realization. You let go.
Upon gazing at him one day, it was as if a switch flipped within her. What once was one of the most crucial pursuits of her identity had turned into an ordinary thing. There was no longer an enthralling allure in her lens that viewed him. She watched as his footsteps grew louder, with her heart having been at the same rate as it was before. Her eyes didn’t carefully settle on him with ease as they once could. There was no tenderness; her view had lost its longing. Maybe all this penetrating affliction was for nothing after all. The rainbow never looked so dull.
Just as the twilight deepened, and her faith in the rainbow was waning, an illuminating spark appeared. It was in that moment of the gleam that captured her sight, an awakening that transcended at the very end of her rainbow. The pot of gold she was yearning for all along–it immersed as a girl eager to flourish the worth that she had attained. It was the treasure that had resided within her, that she had been seeking in someone else.
The time dedicated to devouring such suppressed desires remained dug in between holes of light that excelled within herself. The measures taken in demand of perfection–measures that she was never rewarded back with. She had yet to unravel that he was just ‘some boy’ and she, too, was ‘someone.’ Why must we be so inflicted to who is deserved of this tapestry of feeling if we ourselves are in control of it–if we ourselves are allowed to let it bloom on our own embrace, and not another? Sometimes, the simplicity of being our own treasure could never be more denied. As gradual and self-deceiving the story of chasing something so unreachable for seven years is, she discovered the most fulfilling love story of all—the one she has with herself. Being full of love is not the issue–it is depriving yourself of it that is.