Beauty's Suicide.

Beauty is an interesting thing. The way it is portrayed, seen, understood, perceived...It is, unfortunately, one of the many drugs that contaminate the mind, affect it in ways that sometimes are unshakeable. Beauty is a dangerous weapon, sometimes used with the wrong intentions, and sometimes not known how to use at all. 

I don't understand why people choose to undermine their true self with thousands of pounds of make-up, degrading clothes, degrading mannerism in which they incorporate their "beauty." But that is not true beauty. That is a false impression of what life will be like for every woman around us if something is not done. If something does not change. I cannot be one to judge though, because yes, I have been the victim of this choice...this decision to apply the powder first, the swift flick of a wrist, then the eyes...eyeliner first, then the mascara, eye-shadow...moving on the emphasizing the cheekbones -blush, and ending with lip gloss. I have made the decision to put on the tight skinned shirt, and short skirt. And come to think of it now, I cannot find a valuable reasoning behind my decision and that shakes something within me. 

This "beauty" that we women subject to, it's suicide. It's the slow decay of the free-expression in our mind. Whatever happened to 15 freckles spread across cheekbones, to beauty marks on various parts of the face and body, to gapped teeth, to big noses and big lips. To eyes that are too big, too far apart. Whatever happened to the rawness that people seem to scream with their faces, these portraits that have been given to us and we do not know why...but something we need to understand is that there is a reason for everything. There is a reason why this face was given to us, why it is chosen to be reflected in mirrors, why it is chosen to look back at you in a polaroid, photograph. Usually, a man or woman will notice your undeniable flaw that is marked upon your face, and they will fall irresistibly, and irrevocably, in love with you.

I am waiting for this day. For the day someone will see my flaw, and tell me they think I am the most beautiful creature that has roamed the earth.

Not because I need to hear it, not because I am vain...

But because I want someone to NOTICE.

To care enough to want to stay and stick around with this flaw.

I want to be beautiful, on the ugliest days. I want to whisper beauty even when I am screaming ugly. I want the world to stop picking on people's insecurities because they do not realise they are just adding on to it. I want people to step back, really look at the portrait that is lain before them, and STOP laughing at the surface, and appreciate the core.

I AM BEAUTIFUL ON THE UGLIEST DAYS.

I AM BEAUTIFUL ON THE UGLIEST DAYS.

I AM BEAUTIFUL ON THE..

I AM BEAUTIFUL.