Beauty worth Beholding

The doom scroll brought me here. Endlessly comparing my features to curated perfection and bearing witness to the bias that beauty buys you and the horrors that beauty covers in our society, came the piece of writing bellow.

Luckily for me, my desire to be beautiful has not compromised my desire to be a good person.

Perhaps thats something an ugly person would say.

If only I had felt the sweetness of what it is to be treated as such, treated as a person who incurs favour upon every stranger simply by existing, then maybe I too wouldn’t care whether I was good or bad.

For you’d be too caught up in feeling good.

To feel good, is to be a good person.

To feel bad, is an ugly feeling.

Inherently making you bad, making you ugly.

But I remember a time,

With the naivety of a child

When I felt good, before I realised that a persons appearance is what determines their worth, and what informs the quality of treatment in which one received.

So, I did not always feel this way and

I like to believe that I was made to feel this way.

You see, loving yourself comes much easier when you too are pleased with your own reflection.

And happiness, and those feelings of good and good enough, and contentment with oneself and conviction in ones actions are to you as the effortlessness as the day that turns into night, when every interaction is a reflection of your perceived perfection.

Or so it seems, to me. We stand on different sides of this test of beauty and morality.

One who must earn the cordiality, compassion and a hope for respect,

Simply because I do not meet the immediate appreciation of the eye.

I’m not saying that beauty does not exist within me.

I’m saying that I’ve grown weary of earning.

I’ve grown weary of having to reveal myself in layers,

Hoping that one of them will strike the cord of beauty worthy of beholding.

So let's say I was to turn my back on this standard.

Becoming somewhat of a beauty anti-christ.

Where does this leave me still?