You told me I was beautiful

You may never know, because I will never tell you, but you may never know that by telling me I was beautiful you threw me a lifeline.
I was drowning in my mind, playing the what if and maybe I could just game. Wandering about applying concealer to the cracks that have been showing in my facade.
You stopped and pulled me out, told me I was beautiful and asked me how I was....and listened when I said ok. You asked me again, as busy as you were, how I was. I said ok, made and excuse and went staggering away.
What if and maybe I could just have grown wearisome of late. I'm wounding myself by continuing to foster this sense that it could be the way I want it to be. I'm wounding myself far worse then anyone else could.

But when you told me I was beautiful, I staggered away and threw the concealer in the trash along with the hopes that it would work.
I walked away from that trash can, taller, more stable, and with the obsessive necessity to speak about it safely under wraps.
So you may never know what it is you did when you told me I was beautiful....but I won't ever forget it.