Pretty. I was born and moulded in a world of pretty. Pretty cars, pretty faces, pretty personalities, pretty lawns, pretty, immaculate lives of the aristocratic, educated elite. But what they do not realize in a world constructed of beauty and pleasantries is that ugliness and savagery is the organic, natural state of reality. To be pretty is to be an aberration of the natural order. To be pretty is to be frail, an unnatural thing which can only exist under artificially induced conditions instated and maintained by the ugly. I was born in a world of pretty and yet somehow I am hideous of mind and body. I see all the beauty around me: the glass paneled mansions, the iridescent, shimmering paint of expensive cars, the luscious gardens supplemented by expensive fertilizers to bear flowers healthy and engorged to a capacity that could never exist in the wild. I see the beautiful faces of the white, upper middle class – beauty achieved through generations of privileged, pedantic breeding selection. Children born from pairs bonded by a mutual pedigree, not necessity nor personal compatibility as the ugly do. I see all this cosmetic beauty – and while it is pleasing to the eye it is disgusting to the soul. This beauty evokes ugliness in me, a biological repulsion like the sight of a starving human body. This beautiful world is a false world, a hideous freak show populated with the same grotesque monstrosities expected of a real one – all under a skin of beauty that has fooled every denizen of this gorgeous wasteland.
In this beautiful world I was taught love, ethics, morals and other metaphysical commodities that the rich are allowed the privilege to marvel at and selectively execute and yet I have developed to reject all of these things. I do not love, I hate. I do not respect, I resent. I do not nurture, I destroy. I am ostracized and ridiculed by these beautiful creatures, but they do not realize that it is THEY who are the freaks of the world. It is THEY who are disgusting, gluttonous parasites whose existence is a privilege that is easily revoked. I am a scorching tempest of hate and violent rage. This beauty does not mitigate this inferno, it facilitates it, enhances it, it is the nourishing element that will foster it into the agent of its demise. It is the foolish king whose efforts to prevent his murder become the engendering catalyst to that murder. It is divine comedic irony. It is that wretched beauty that has made me so ugly.