Symmetry. That’s what makes a thing one of beauty. Harmony in lines, features, even in imperfections. Paradoxical? Perhaps. Yet it is recognized. And appreciated. Freckles showered across opaque whiteness, a mole to accentuate a well-curved mouth, a curl to break the monotony of needle-straight hair… A flaw to balance out a good point if you may.
A flaw. And then two. And then some more. The beauty is destroyed. What remains is an abomination. An atrociousness that is beyond repair. Sweetness covering up the lies, imposition masked as cordiality. Selfishness. Pure, unadulterated selfishness rising like bile from your insides, all the way up to your throat, coming out of your mouth, your ears, your pores. Drowning every little aspect that once fooled people into loving you. Submerged in the murky water are all your pretenses, all the untruths that spewed forth from your treacherous mouth.
And the world sees you for who you really are: A puny shadow of a person, naked without the put-on glory, the self-proclaimed adjectives, the pre-packaged identity.
And what of beauty? It was all an illusion, like the thick make-up you wore, the fake charms you made us believe you possessed. It is not gone for it was never there.
You were never beautiful for you were never truthful.