February 08, 2006|
Forgive me for I am shallow.
I fear ugliness. The notion of being ugly makes me want to vomit. This part that is so closely associated with identity and attraction, this part being broken, it frightens me, and the only way to fix this part is to replace it with parts that weren't there to start with.
And yet, I am ugly. I hate it. I hate how I walk outside and feel like anyone who looks at me is disgusted or indifferent. I hate that most of the people I'm attracted to would probably be grossed out by me. I hate that the thought of me finding them attractive would probably sicken and offend them, and it sickens me that I find them attractive. Like I am giving them something they'd never give back. They don't deserve it. Why can't everything be balanced? Every feeling. Justified and right.
It's funny how we want justice more than anything, most of us, and so many parts of our lives seem so imbalanced.
I suppose this is why Marilyn Manson is my friend. This part that speaks to our dismantled-left-behind parts and nurtures them. tells them it's okay to be left behind. tells them it's ok to be. the musician that nurtures a prosthetic limb
I suppose this is why I am trying so hard to be an artist, through writing, through photographs, through music, through hair and nail colors. I can't change that i'm ugly, but I can make beauty come out of some figurine. And maybe my shell will eventually crack, and there will be a duckling that isn't so ugly, all thanks to the beautiful things I've made. However, there is that desire. I want so much, I want people to look at me and see beauty first, not tacked on as something that saves me from my fucked up appearance. It is carnal. Fuck. It is a desire to have what I can't. It is a desire to be loved. It is a desire to misspell desire as deserve. It is a desire to feel wanted, and not rejected, always, by what I want.
Some people say I am beautiful. I hope they are right. If I am ugly, I would rather have that ugliness that is so weird and strange and spectacular that it becomes beautiful, but I fear it may just be that mediocre ugliness that only a mind can save.