I hate beauty

I hate beauty. I despise the antics of social media that allow me to witness beauty at it's prime. The scrolling of my sickening news feed on Facebook threatens to grab my eyes with the slightest catch of weakness. I mean, I don't fall for it all the time, at least not when it's the most ordinary of ordinary people. But when it's that, oh dare I even suggest calling it that, I can't help but wonder in the amazement of my own mind. Why is it so captivating? Why does this give me more hope than an A+ on an exam? Ha... perhaps there's my problem. I'm going to need more perfection on exams if I I'm to settle for something so majestic. But I'm assuming, and in the worst of ways.  I know it's consistent, at least I think I know. Wait... if I thought I knew, do I really know? It's the streamline of hair styles, all so destructively beautiful, that makes me think I know. I swear I'm sure now, because I can smell the scent of roses and pine. What do those even smell like? I think it sounds nicer on a typed screen that it actually would smell in actuality, just like my plans to finally buy a few roses and daisies. For her? Yes! Absolutely, positively. That is, until, my grandma waters it in her backyard. I swear it's working though! I've finally managed to click a button I haven't been able to for ages, and you know what, only thirty other people have clicked it. I'm closing in on the jackpot and I can feel the cash rolling in already. Now it's time to bombard the grasp of technology. I need to upload a photo, send out a status update, or perhaps click another button to remind her that I care. I actually like seeing your old things. That sounds a little creepy, doesn't it. I apologize, but not before I purchase the sofa you're sitting on. Is it from Ikea?

And you know what I hate even more than beauty? It's when you combine beauty with fashion. Damn you fashion and the designers of said fashion. Flowers... rose petals... stupid barely any cloth skirt. You make my days and ruin them at the very same time. Bittersweet. I think I've seen that shirt on someone else, though. No. I must be imagining it. May I have the contact number to your very own personal designer of clothing? Don't tell me you bought that from forever21. Look at you, all so modest. But I hate it! Beauty and fashion shouldn't exist, for it's the bane of my existence. Like you haven't heard that one before. And why must you pose too? Is it hard enough trying to garner hearts without those eyes? It must be. I guess that's why my pictures haven't been all so popular recently. But there are a few with mutual people *hint hint*.

It's all futile. It's more hopeless than our bickering political parties! Now that's saying something. I hate beauty. Don't you? Imagine the world without such terrible excitements to the heart and mind. Could you picture a world without eyes gaping at others? What if I told you that you could cut your eyes out to mitigate beauty? And I mean only mitigate because the mind is all too powerful to prevent imagination. Yes, imaginations of even greater beauty that haunts the mental outside of the physical. Well then, I guess there really isn't a solution.

And for all you curious people out there... I'm not talking about that

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