I died for beauty

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I stumbled into Emily Dickinson's poem today. I was on a break from binge-watching Criminal Minds. Upon reading it, I instantly fell in love with the poem and my own interpretation of it.

I died for Beauty - but was scarce

Adjusted in the Tomb

When One who died for Truth, was lain

In an adjoining Room -

He questioned softly "Why I failed"?

"For Beauty", I replied -

"And I - for Truth - Themself are One -

We Brethren are", He said -

And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night —

We talked between the Rooms -

Until the Moss had reached our lips -

And covered up - Our names -

We all killed our past selves -  the ones we consider as ugly, to be accepted, adored, and loved by everyone. We killed the light in us to fit into other people's fantasies. And what did it make us in the end? Are we happy with who we are now? Or you're like me, reliving the past and wishing you didn't hate yourself too much?

We all died for beauty and concealed the truth. 

The truth is that we are all beautiful in our own ways. 

E.

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