Beauty is pain.

That’s what my great grandmother would tell me,

while I grimaced as the brush caught the snarls in my hair.

I wish she was still alive to ask what she truly meant behind that saying.

If she knew what those words would hold years later in 2023.

If that “pain” was deeper within than just pulling of hair.

If she knew those words would hold a much darker meaning years down the road,

after “beauty is pain” almost killed me.

Did she know,

staring at that little girl,

what she would go through,

and what those words would mean?

Was she preparing me for what was about to come?

Were they words that wouldn’t hold meaning until years later?

Did she say them knowing everyone would feel them differently,

hold such different meanings,

That no explanation was key to allowing those specific meanings to create?

Or were those words purely innocent,

with little meaning behind her tongue.

Did she know then,

that “beauty is pain” would be a saying that would hold so much power to her little great granddaughter sitting behind her.