I'm so...over this.
thing. That is my life.
Because you know what. It doesn't matter what I look like. Put some makeup on anyone and they'll look like a million bucks. Remove the eyeliner and blush and you have a regular old person. A person who ages. A person with blemishes. A person who will eventually age in a million and a half ways. Beauty is subjective and beauty is fleeting.
I wish people understood that.
I don't like it when you call me "beautiful" because that means nothing to me. It means that you are looking at me as an object, not as a person. You are viewing the shell of me. You are viewing the facade that I have built, that God has molded, as a preface to the person, as a shield to my real person. It's a thick shell. And calling me "beautiful" "gorgeous" "hot"--that shows how little you have even attempted to chisel your way through it.
I had a conversation once. No. That's not true. I've had this conversation several times. With different people. Where they elaborate on their use of the term after an outburst of mine.... A memorable one was this person who, for the first time, revealed (or so I thought) that they had been slowly chiseling away at my shield, and had actually gotten through. A later conversation with another person showed that it shouldn't have taken two years for that to happen. Beauty, in that sense, is something that is internal. The latter saw how I was with a child...and only then did that person see my true self. because who can honestly keep a shield up around a child?
I like to think of myself as a beautiful person. Inside, not necessarily out. Because, honestly, when I am in the raw bitter moments that only a few people have seen me in, I don't consider myself a physically pretty person. But inside...hopefully that light shines through.
So don't call me beautiful. Don't tell me I'm pretty. Don't comment on my physical characteristics, because that's so superficial it disgusts me. Talk to me about things that matter. Have conversations about your passions, because that is what gets me. What you love I love, what I love, hopefully you'll love. Talking is hard...but it's magical. And that's the only complement I can ask for. View my intelligence. View my opinions. Actually see who I am...and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you in. Until then, consider the Great Wall secure.
Go watch Chuck. It's a funny show. I love nerds....big sigh. He can help fix my computer any day.