8

Everything about my body was perfect. My hair was in perfect structure, my hips were the perfect shape, my stomach was a perfect size and my face was a piece of astonishing, reflected art. However, my mind was the complete opposite. A beauty is to always care for her body, the world says, but they don't speak of how a beauty should portray her mind.

A shard of glass sinks deep into your skin when you're undermined as a work of art, a miracle. You become regretful of all your styles and pray to be ugly like the rest of them. You pray for this cruel world to be demolished and carry the sadness with you around. In my mind, whenever someone downgraded anything about me, I felt like stabbing them right through the chest, piercing into their heart and soaking up all the liquids of their soft, black blood.

But as time passed by, I began to downgrade myself into an average. I stopped caring whenever anyone complimented or insulted me. I stopped caring whether I was giving off certain vibes to all the men. I stopped caring whether I looked like a model anymore. But as I confessed before, my mind is a whirlwind of unusual thoughts.