Of Very High Standard; Excellence.

Have you ever met someone so beautiful, that being around them just makes your heart feel light? How about someone so nice that every time you aren’t nice around them—even if it your anger isn’t taken out on them—you feel like a big heaping pile of shit on a summers day in a farm in South Georgia?

I thought I knew what true envy was. I was envious of many girls in school for reasons that I now shutter in disgust over. I have been envious of people who seem to have it together. I have been envious of friend who have parents. I have even been envious of everyone in any Instagram picture of Matt McGorry. And yes, I know, I have no reason to be jealous of anyone, ever… except anyone who is friends with Lena Dunham and Jon Stewarts person of confidante.

The older I get the more I have realized that (what I thought) beauty—is—fades and personality prevails. Beauty is not this outward shell, yet this inner aura. I have seen so many people—and by so many, I mean 3, who have become such beautiful people. Maybe they haven’t become, they always have been, I guess I am just now seeing them for who they are. And now, I am beyond envious of beautiful people. I’m not talking about, Ms. Universe, beautiful¹. I am talking about people who are refreshingly stunning and effervescent, that knowing them or even the illusion of knowing them makes your feel stress-free.

There are 3 people—that I will give pseudonyms to, for my own protection—who I wish I was best friends with, or could be the fly on the wall in every room they visit. A fly who is reincarnated into, yet another fly, days after my 72-hour life ends. These are people that I know, have known, and have yet to know. I admire them and find them so fascinating. If you are reading this and you are one of these people…I can’t wait for that awkward moment that we have to talk about this. But I am so confident that we are such a good friend (even if we are just friends in my head) that this will flatter you and you’ll want to listen to pod cast on a quick day trip to Chattanooga. But most of me, hopes that my writing is so ambiguous, and secretive that only my closest friends will pin who these people are only because I talk about them all the time.

Pseudonym: M.

I have a massive non-celebrity social media crush on a guy who I went to high school with, share several mutual friends with, yet, I have never met. We are friends on Facebook, Instagram, and even Twitter. I have heard only grand things about, M. His post on Facebook are; strange, rare, open, hilarious, relatable, honest, odd, cynical, appropriately sad, and even at times dumb. But, I like 98.9% of all his post. I believe that I am coy in my thumbs up…and more recently my heart reaction, “ha-ha” reaction and one time, I even used a “wow!” reaction on Facebook. His love for his best friend is very much present on Facebook which is heartwarming and rare, a bromance, I know nothing about, yet admire and never roll my eyes at. When he likes my Instagram post, I feel like I met some sort of goal, despite knowing that he follows a lot of people, and like me, may get a little thumb happy. Why follow someone if you’re not going to like their post, come on petty peeps. I am not sure if I can even pronounce M’s last name correctly, but I know he is a beautiful person. He seems to care about people. People who look different from him, who live differently, and who view the world differently. He is passionate about life and has given the illusion (maybe, even, a non-illusion) that he loves good people, and can find good in so many people. I want to watch “Nosferatu” with while eating popcorn and drinking red wine through a Twizzler straw. That may sound oddly intimate, but it is my dream friendship date. One day, If I ever meet M, we will hit it off and become fabulous friends! He may think I am a negative, obnoxious gal, but like many of my other friends somehow seem to look past it and willing spend time with me. I may tell him that I wrote a semi-solid personal essay about him and he may respond, “I know.” Which will be very refreshing if this fantasy comes true. Or when social media fades out, so will my social media crush, but what will not fade is my envy and yearning to have even a sliver of beauty radiant enough to shine through the internet, like M does.

Pseudonym: She.

I have admired and been inspired by a peer of mine since middle school. We had many classes together and She was always a good friend to me even before I could ever realize what a good friend actually is. She was beyond witty, hilarious, smart, bold, confident; even when She felt her most insecure. She was kind, open, thoughtful, talented, and had a dark enough story that made her so compassionate. She was misunderstood in school because she looked different from girls who the boys desired. She was one of the tallest kids in school, always. She was exotic looking and dressed and looked appropriately awkward for a middle school girl and equally awkward in high school. But boy, did she blossom for college. She found her people. People who used her bright spirit as a beacon of light. She was the warmth you wanted to walk into. Not the bug zapper that uses it light to confused blood suckers—which a lot of “pretty girls” in high school were. She is now BOLD.  I comment things like “U. Slay. Me”, “YAS KWEEN.”  under her Instagram post with absolutely no shame. She is so beyond woke about the world around her. She dresses so fabulous and courageous that I want her to be my personal stylist. She is fierce with her hair and seems to love her body even if society attempts to tell her, She is unconventional. She is a woman that empowers others woman. She has friends who are LGBT, ROYGBIV and who worship Jesus, Allah, God, and Beyoncé. She doesn’t judge and is pure. Pure hearted. The only way pure should ever really matter. I wish I went to her college so I could be an active friend to her. She is so great! The last time I saw She, was over 5 years ago. She came to visit me one day. We sat on my couch in my room along with another high school friend and talked about life, and people and laughed and laughed and laughed. I am pretty sure that was the last time I saw her. But I am also 100% sure that when I see her again, it will be just as easy as it was that evening sitting on my couch.  I aspire to be ¼ of the woman She is and will be.

Pseudonym: Oliver

Oliver. This one could be beyond obvious. I am going to attempt to be as discrete as possible. Everyone knows that one nice person who is just so beyond genuine and caring. Someone who naturally concerned about others around them. They truly love their friends and want them to succeed and will do whatever it takes to make sure they do. You have never heard anything negative about this person and if you ever did, you may become so overly offended that you will be labeled an angry black woman, but if that means defending their name, then so be it. Well, that is Oliver. I truly believe that people enter (and leave) your life for a reason. Oliver has had a place in my life for such a small sliver of time, yet has made such an impact on 23-year-old me, that is absolutely insane. Oliver is genuinely apologetic about things he should never apologize for. He is sincere when he asks “How are you today?” He enjoys the small things and even in a situation that others could deem embarrassing, stressful, and become angered by, Oliver seems to stay so calm, rational, and understanding. He is able to accept everyone for who they are and has faith in their goodness. He is such a fantastic listener. Talking to him feels dangerous at first. You start opening up and telling him things. Things, that as you are saying them aloud, your brain is trying desperately to take back; afterwards, you are okay with what you said, because of who you said it to. You know you will never be as good to Oliver as he is to you, despite trying very hard to be. He is important to so many people, yet not enough people. I want to have a friend who is single and superb enough for me to talk into going on a date with him, just so I can give a speech at their wedding about how I, single handedly joined two beautiful souls.

Oliver is a person of truth, creativity, and morals. He yearns to know more, which is beautiful within itself and has patience of Gandhi…okay, maybe not Gandhi… but you get what I am saying. He doesn’t realize how powerful his low key presence is. He is so kind, that I can’t tell if he really likes me (as a friend, which I feel like I must state since people have a hard time with people of the opposite sex being 100% platonic friends.)  or if he tolerates me because he has to. Which, I soon realized that I am not the only who feels that way. Maybe because I am aware of my own annoyances and the fact that I can’t read him—I am a fantastic people reader, rarely wrong—makes it difficult to tell. Regardless, I will take it.  If he likes me great, if he tolerates me, great! Oliver is the friend who you are excited to see, and nervous to leave. He is able to be so fluid in his understanding and compassion. He has told me some of the most encouraging words without even realizing it. I want so many good things to happen to him, for him and with him.

By the time I was done writing my Ode to She, I was on my 4^th episode of Lena Dunham’s Women of the Hour podcast. As I wrote about 2 people who I find to be beautiful people, I start to realize how not, nice I am. (Please, note I am not being self-deprecating or wanting you to tell me how awesome I am. I know I am awesome, I have to tell myself that at least weekly to prevent myself from crying at an ill-timed red light on the way home from work. People are allowed to be better than us. We are allowed to admire people. We are also allowed to use the word beautiful for its true definition and not in the way that is used to describe the cotton candy sky that graces your social media every other day.)  I know I am not a horrible person. I am what you call an ish person. I am compassionate-ish.  I am nice-ish.  Which is OK-ish.

There are times when I creep on my own social media (you do it too) when I think—Do others look at my social media as creepily as I look at theirs and admire my beauty? Do others read my status’, captions, or sporadic blog post and admire my inner beauty? I may never know. Is there a social media friend out there who has a social crush on me, the way I have one on M.? If so, please, let me know, we can become email pen pals and then real life pals. I would say, I don’t care, but I do. We all known the saying “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”  I think it is great. It is a grand saying that I agree with whole heartedly, until someone attempts to tell me that they can’t see any beauty in Phoebe Robinson or the words that Anne Sexton had written, you obviously do not know beauty, you shallow muck… I am also dramatic-ish.

This PE (personal essay) is out of the norm of me. My everyday personae may be cynical, a tad negative (yet, I prefer, realistic), neurotic, sarcastic, naturally irritated, self-proclaimed quirky old soul. Writing personal essays such as these makes me feel overly vulnerable. I am able to let the walls down that IRL (In real life) me has up for some weird reason. I am able to hide behind this screen and not let my face do the talking, which along with my big mouth has a V hard time staying neutral and unexpressive. As insensitive as I am 91% of the time, I am capable of being open and free with my words to describe others in a lovely way. And that is what I find beautiful about me. What is beautiful about you?