Every day I see beauty talked about in every single form of simile imaginable. Comparisons to flowers and celestial objects and feelings, elevation above all else. Some twisted view of society where the superficial reigns supreme, glossy tabloids and highbrow literature poisoning young minds and strangling the future.
Why do we place beauty so high on the list of life’s priorities? Why do we judge someone based on a non-transferable characteristic? Beauty in the form that is shoved down our throats incessantly rarely puts food on the table, and in the event that it does, it often corrupts.
However, people need something to believe in, a form of escapism, and if beauty is that then so be it. As long as ideals are not forced upon me, I’m fine with it. The sad thing is when my perception of beauty is questioned, ridiculed, often humiliated – it makes my hair stand on end in seething anger.
Beauty for me is nothing more than a smile – on my face, on hers. Someone telling me a joke, telling me they miss me, offering me something or asking if I’d like to grab a coffee. Beauty is someone bothering with me in the first place, when so many do not. Beauty is a world of possibility not limited by language or wealth.
And most of all? Beauty is being allowed to be hypocritical in words, all in the name of creative license.