Teenage Veracity

insecurity

Mirror, mirror on the wall, I'm the ugliest creature of them all.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, why can't I be the fairest of them all?

Mirror, mirror on the wall, how can you break me when I can break you whole?

The thing is, it may come in different forms and for different reasons, but I'm sure we all have inevitable insecurities.

The first thing that I always reach when I wake up every morning is the mirror on my bedside table. I don't know why it is always the first thing that my hand reaches for. But I do know that I want to check my face. Always. I don't know why I wanted to check on my face. But I do know that I was hoping to see something great in my features. I didn't, though.

So, here's the thing:

I've built a secret empire of insecurities inside my brain. Their hideout is somewhere I can't locate it. And no matter how hard I try to bring them down, they are so vicious that they keep on acting up.

Sometimes I wonder why I am not blessed with a beautiful face. If there is some kind of selection of babies who are going to be attractive, I am definitely not one of them. 

I envy them. I envy how blessed they are in terms of physical appearance. Like, they won't check their face on the screen of their phone every second every time they go outside because they are sure their face is okay. They know they will always be pretty.

My face is definitely not. It's surely not. A single ugly picture of me can ruin everything I am.

I'm really trying to fit into the standards of beauty when, clearly, I don't fit at all. I spent a lot of money. I buy products in hopes of curing the ugliness around me. Make-up, beauty products, skin care, and whitening products are designed for us. I don't know why. Do they think we are ugly, so they created products to make us prettier? They say we should do it for ourselves. But I'm sure we are also doing it to look good for others.

Why can't we accept who we are, though? Why are we trying? I am in a room of pretty girls around my age. I want to get out because it's suffocating. But there are no doors. Nor windows. It's just me and them and the four corners of the room.

They are already pretty, yet they are still striving to be the prettiest. What does it leave me?

Pretty girls. Beautiful girls. Attractive girls. I can't be one of them. I don't want to blame anyone. But I think if society doesn't just give people the picture of what a pretty face is to follow, we won't be trying to get out of the room.

It's so hard to be ugly these days. It's a fact because pretty privilege does exist. The worst thing is that it got worse than it was before. It's always the pretty who wins. It's always the pretty one who gets everything. People will automatically like you and then love you. You don't have to do anything because your face is enough.

It's exhausting to witness and experience inferiority just because you're ugly. It's so exhausting to live your day in gloom just because you can't be pretty like them. It's so exhausting to keep trying, and still, at the end of the day, you can't be one of them. 

I cannot count the times I've looked at girls and wished I was on their faces. I cannot count the times I keep on following the stares of people towards them. I cannot count the times I always got the bare minimum while they got the extreme best. I cannot count the times I keep seeing the world favor them. Now, who doesn't want to be pretty?

Why am I talking about this? Again, it's because the privilege is killing me. It's really hard to be ugly these days, and I am just so tired of being surrounded by beautiful people. I am just nobody because I am not pretty.

I am jealous, and I hate myself for that. They don't deserve my envious stares and secret bad actions and intentions just because I hate how they are pretty without even trying. I should stop doing that, but it must be impossible if they keep on being pretty. 

You know, it must be nice to be treated the way people treat pretty people. Sometimes, I wonder how it must feel to wake up in the morning knowing that you're pretty. It must be nice.

I complain a lot, and that's a fact. I don't want to blame myself. If my friends are pretty, if the strangers are pretty, and I'm always in the middle, someone like me who still needs external validation and appreciation can't evade cursing pretty girls. It's not their fault either, but since they always get good feelings and good things in life, then I must blame them.

I don't know why this thing bothers me, but it does. Especially now that pretty girls are winning and privileged enough just by sitting, you can't blame yourself for wanting that standardized face. Especially since you get so much appreciation when you are standing pretty, you can't blame yourself for striving to be one of those pretty girls.

I am insecure, and it won't benefit me at all. It's all in my head, I know. Our mind is our greatest nemesis. I am too dramatic and might be making this up all in my mind, and I should just get out of it to make my life easier. But it's not easy. Because if it is, I wouldn't price my worth in their reflections.