Sunday, 23 July 2017
When You Can't Even Be Bothered Grasping At Perfection Any More, And "Nearly Good Enough" Is The Only Thing You Can Be Bothered Aiming For
I feel bad for those pretty girls with their perfectly plucked brows, their ruby lips, mascara'd tips and their foundation laden jowls. For the hours that they must spend alone and early preening for perfection, that they waste it all to come to work and see me in the reflection. My unwashed face, and unloved hair, my disheveled clothes. the way my face isn't quite right and the ugliness of my nose. The way I can't be bothered to even make the time, to find a way to fix my skin or exfoliate all my grime. And those girls stand and smile all the while pretending I'm not disgusting, is it any wonder then that I have grown up so untrusting?