June 2, 2009
My entire life is shrouded in ugliness. I feel so uncomfortable in my skin and in this face, that I rebel against the very idea of beauty. I pretend ugly is a virtue, like piety. That beauty is something I have freely chosen to give up. They do not know that beneath the dark frames of my glasses, my mousy hair and drab, hanging clothing that I am ugly to the core. It is central to my being, and it spreads out through my veins and poisons my heart and brain. I think ugly. I see ugly. I am ugly.