Where I come from, beautiful people are happy. In my culture, depth and kindness mean beauty. The way I see it, happy people are beautiful and that happiness is defined by depth and kindness.

Here, everything is backwards.

This place has a concept of beauty so aesthetically concentrated, it’s poisonous. Even those who fit the mold are shamed away from happiness under the delusion that beauty and depth should be strangers - distant cousins, at best.

It’s difficult for a beautiful soul to find themselves under these conditions as with true beauty and absolute happiness, one cannot exist without the other.

(Source: satans-bacon)

I was lying in bed and staring at myself in a mirror. Have you ever noticed how very different we look when we lie on our beds or on the grass outside? I can’t explain it, but something changes. I looked for that change today and in trying to pinpoint what is was, I discovered a tiny mole on my left cheek that I didn’t notice before. Can you believe that? All this time living in my skin, I never noticed this small and quiet detail. I looked further and found that my eyes are not only blue, but several hues of blue - azure, periwinkle, sapphire and cyaneous - all syndicated into the common strand of DNA passed down to me by my grandmother. I traced the nexus of my brow to where all of the things I don’t understand are pinched within a frown so frequent that it has made its mark. I touched my eyes, my nose, my mouth and uncovered details long hidden in the veil of familiarity and I thought to myself… if I’ve only just discovered this tiny mole on my cheek after having seen my own reflection time and time again, what of my soul? What is there, rooted in the fibers of my being that I don’t already know?

Today I stared at myself in a mirror searching for atoms and I found a galaxy.  How very magnificent we are.

(Source: satans-bacon)

I like people who bite their nails and peel their lower lips. I like watching a messy head of hair strut to the grocery store in flip-flops and pyjamas with bags under their eyes full to the brim. I like Read Mores on blogs that spill their entire hearts out and splatter the screen in a deep shade of regret. I like seeing people crying against steering wheels, people sitting on park benches and staring at the gaps between their fingers. I like people who don’t wear make up and never apologise for their bodies. I like it when people don’t hide their scars. I like people with no gaps between their thighs, a gap between their teeth, and people with ribs like pencils trying to make it out their paper skin. I like grey hair and unshaven faces and laugh lines like meandering maps. I like people who try to catch their laughter in their palms and shy away from cameras. I like people who go through their entire phone books not knowing who to call. People who wear sunglasses and write poetry on their skin, and the people walking their dogs at 2 a.m. because the silence gets too loud. I guess I’m a little obsessed with imperfections. With the things everyone calls mistakes, but I’d rather call exactly what was meant to be. I don’t know, I just like those things that people don’t realise are in reality- absolutely beautiful.

(Source: satans-bacon)