We don't think about the little things. We think about the big things that seem to make the difference. Most of the time they do, but not everything is measured in "how big" or "how amazing". Sometimes, things are so great and spectacular that you can't even utter a word.
Once upon a time, there lived a young girl in a far away kingdom. She wanted the most glamorous life anyone could imagine. She wanted grand balls, amazing gowns, and most importantly, she wanted to forever be a princess. One day, she meets a peasant boy who makes paintings. To her, the paintings are the most beautiful things in the entire world. But, the boy was a peasant, so she did not accept his work. The girl only saw his social status, instead of his personality. She only saw what she wanted to see - a peasant.
When the girl grows older, she begins to collect the most beautiful things in the world. She collects rare art, the finest tea's, the prettiest dresses. The only thing that she has yet to find was love. She yearned for the most passionate thing life could offer. And even still, love was not what she could find.
Years pass and the girl see's the peasant boy from long ago. She see's that he is still making the beautiful paintings like he once did, only he was accompanied by a woman. The girl felt her heart sink as the feeling of loneliness plagued her.
More years pass and the girl realizes that the peasant boy is no longer painting anymore. In fact, the girl couldn't recall the last time she ever saw the peasant boy. One day she asks a near by man about the boy. "Didn't you hear?" the man asks. "The boy was a magician, his paintings were magical. He could step into the paints and enter a new world. Lucky boy, he is."
The girl did nothing but wish for what could have been until a knock on the girl's door awakes her from her slumber. A small picture, with a small painting, lay on her door step. The picture was that of true beauty, for the girl saw a book painted on the painting. The book was titled: Her.
The girl reaches inside of the painting to figure out that it, too, was magical just as the boy's paintings were. As she looks through the book, she sees only pictures of herself. The pictures looked to be painted from afar, it seems, after all, that the peasant boy felt the same way as she did.
If only, she wondered, she had seen that what's on the outside, didn't matter at all.
*Ignore the grammar, I just didn't feel like reading it over. Sorry. Enjoy.*