Fleeting Beauty

First of all, the moment you die is really your death sentence. Childish Gambino raps this in his song Life: The Biggest Troll. It truly sets the scene for the life of an actor, which most of us are uncomfortable to admit we are, but it seems to be a bit more work to breathe through the already cut holes in place for our animalistic and hardwired senses, which try to claw their way out of such a masquerade. We can see, hear, smell, taste, and touch thanks to evolution, but our downfall lies in specializing in one or more.

For me, beauty puts my mind in a tranquil state; the eye of the beholder is always on high alert for the next fantasy to lose itself in. As I look in the mirror, my other symbiotic movements of swallowing water and running my hands through my hair seem to be the fundamentals on which I pride myself. Looking presentable is what has been shown to me as ever-important, but weren't we all once naked and eating fruit together under the sun? This is still allowed, but only in Europe.

I wouldn’t say it's all pessimistic because now I know what colors go together to curate my own brightness for the day, reflecting in the clothes I put on my body. It is a nice step on the ladder of perfection, one where pain sits atop every rung, waiting to be discovered with the naked eye and then shaped as a means of uplifting which parts make me look more lively than washed out. An exchange of cruel beauty standards for another pang in my heart, hearing the words of another actor saying “Fake it till you make it.” I’ll jump off when the burden of beauty weighs too heavy on my heart; I know how to fall.

The moon is always full even when it only shines half so. To ascribe someone to a standard that requires time to change is a mission for the insecure; why else would they make you believe you are not enough as you already are? My beauty is fleeting and so the ladder shoots up towards cloud 9. That is alright, I am scared of heights anyway, I’d rather walk around with flowers in my hair than face the ultimate trial of worthiness: A mannequin filling someone else’s cup (pinkies up!).