They say beauty is a gift. Many have coveted it and even died for it. The pages of our history are no stranger as to how beauty was rejoices and worshipped even before technology and cosmetics were born.
I am beautiful. Yes, I am because that’s what I always hear from my parents since I was a kid. Physically - I might be. If drawing in attention from other people would serve as proof, then I might be beautiful. But who cares?
Being beautiful is not always a good thing, at least for me. I believe that being beautiful is also a responsibility. There are perks that most people enjoy and love for being beautiful – what is FAME and being POPULAR? I bet most people would die to be famous and being in the spotlight always. But not me… And yet I would be a hypocrite if I’ll say I didn’t enjoy it too, because at some point I did.
Nevertheless, for me beauty is a curse. It’s not something you should flaunt to other people and be proud of it like it’s an achievement. I admit that most of the time, I’m not happy with it. It made my life a chaotic mess. There are people who hated me because of what I am. What makes it inconceivable is that I don’t know what I did to them for them to hate me this much. For one thing, I don’t even know them and yet they seemed to b e very happy to see me suffer. I don’t get it why I have to watch every move I make. One wrong move and they feasted. From the clothes I wear, the way I comb my hair and to the people I’m with, I have to be very vigilant. Otherwise, they’ll have more reasons to talk about me and celebrate. If I’m not beautiful, I wouldn’t have to go through all of these.
I wanted a simple life. A life where I can be who I am – no pressure from other people. A life where I can freely wear anything I want and be with people without worrying what others think. Is that too much to ask?