A Manual on Remembering That I Am Beautiful

[Gabriel]: In that single moment when you come to believe that you are no longer beautiful, when your past straps you into an electric chair and the current destroys your spirit, when living life is so painful that even the blood running through your veins makes your body ache, when you ignore the happiness written on the lines of your palms and focus on carving deception on the wrist below instead, take my advise…

Go to the nearest Barnes & Noble and buy the book, “The Gift” by Hafiz. Return home, disable your door-bell, lock the front door, unplug your phone and find a quiet room. The process begins…

First, pick up a notebook and begin to write down every experience that has ever scarred your precious heart. Leave at least one page blank after each experience.

[Poet]: Last week I lost my mother to breast cancer. She was the only person who told me that my poetry dream wasn’t a silly fantasy. When she lost her second breast, she tattooed one of my poems on her smooth chest and thanked me. She told me wearing my words made her feel beautiful again.

[Lucifer]: She was the only one who understood you. Now you have nobody. Slit your wrist and be reunited.

[Gabriel]: Go deeper.

[Poet]: When I was eighteen I fell in love for the first time in my life, her name was Luz. The first time we made love was magic. I put on a rubber and she started to cry. I asked her what was wrong. I have H.I.V. my love, I’m sorry I kept it from you but I …Shhhh! I pulled off the condom and made love to her. I told her that I rather be infected and die in that moment than live to be 100 years old and never experience her warmth. I didn’t contract the virus, but sometimes I wish I did because Luz died one year after and I miss her.

[Lucifer]: You didn’t contract the virus, but you can take care of that right now. Slit your wrist and be reunited.

[Gabriel]: Go deeper.

[Poet]: When I was six years old, my best friend Timmy and I would play toy soldiers in my bedroom and pretend to be Generals. One day my father came home, drunk as usual, burst in on us, grabbed Timmy…and…and he raped him. Timmy didn’t make a sound; just watched me turn away in fear as he bled onto a pair of white sheets. The stains spelled out, “help me.” I swear that I could hear our toy soldiers weeping, and one even turned to me and said, “You’re no General, you’re a coward.”

[Lucifer]: That’s right! You are! Now slit your wrist, it’s the least you can do to make it up to Timmy!

[Gabriel]: Once you’ve written down each haunting memory, pick up “The Gift” by Hafiz and start reading; go through your list of your memories, one-by-one, matching each to a poem that will give you strength to overcome that tragic moment. When you find the right poem, copy it onto the page you left blank after each experience.

[Hafiz]: “When no one is looking and I want
To kiss
God

I just lift my own hand
To

My

Mouth.”

[Poet]: That one’s for you mom. I promise to never forget my divinity.

[Hafiz]: “Let thought become the beautiful Woman.

Cultivate your mind and heart to that depth

That it can give you everything
A warm body can.”

[Poet]: That one’s for you my beloved Luz. I still feel your warmth baby.

[Hafiz]: “Dear ones,
This curriculum tonight is for the advanced
And will

Get all the blame straight,

End the mental

Lawsuits

That

Clog

The

Brain –

Hallelujah!”

[Poet]: That one’s for you Timmy. I’m free.

[Gabriel]: When you have finished, close the notebook and write the following title on the cover, “A manual on remembering that I am beautiful.” And every time that you forget that, pick up that notebook

and read.