When L said I was beautiful I didn’t say thank you. I didn’t say how unimportant that word was. I didn’t say that it meant nothing. I only looked into the lens for a few seconds as she focused it on my face for our portrait project. She said there was something about me. She wanted to capture different expressions on my face. She wanted a goofy face for a change, but all I gave her was an indifferent look. I couldn’t pretend. There was nothing to laugh about. I had turned 18. I was wearing the black sweater my sister bought for my birthday and a pair of dangling earrings with a necklace. My weekend had been a happy one, one I would never forget. My girlfriends and I had danced on Saturday evening to a mix of Persian and Arabic songs. We had eaten a mocha flavored birthday cake and a friend of mine had wanted to reverse the 1 and 8 candle sticks so I would be 81 instead. I celebrated that day and “beautiful” had meant something.
Sometimes words aren’t enough. Sometimes you want more than words and compliments that only last a few minutes before you realize you’re waiting out in the cold and there is no one. Sometimes, words become indefinable, even a simple word like beautiful.