As long as you're pretty.

脚
by ャャ @Pixiv

Sometimes, I think the biggest fucking lie is that:
It doesn't matter if you're pretty, it doesn't mean you'll be happy.
I hate people who make stories that all blurt out: "She's poor and sad, and abused and beaten, but she's an angel. She's beautiful." Yet, nothing makes sense in them.
The reason why people die through suicide, thorough abuse, through bullying is because they're ugly.
Whether they really are or not.
Whether it's everyone else who thinks someone is ugly, or if it's the person herself or himself that thinks s/he is ugly.
It really wouldn't matter, because no one else thought they were pretty enough to save.

And I keep thinking like that. In that same train of thought.
Because
in the world of fiction and fantasy, ugly people don't exist.
The bullied are beautiful. The abused are beautiful. The suicidal are gorgeous.
Their "saviours" are godly.
But what's the point then? Where's the touch of reality that's supposed to give people hope?

That girl that no one talks to, is just another outcast. She's lonely. She's dying inside. No one cares.
And if I just say that, I bet we'll all imagine a very gorgeous girl, because there is nothing wrong with her personality.
There is nothing wrong with her. People just don't like her.

When reality screams that she's overweight and wears too much light pink. Even when it's not such a flattering colour on her.
When reality screams in our faces that she's not a good person. Even when she has never said a word.
When reality screams to every goddamn person she bothers to talk to, that she's a weirdo. She's a freak. She's fucking ugly.

We're always hearing about girls falling in love, getting boyfriends, living life like it's nothing. Then we're supposed to hear about how "Oh, she doesn't have a dad/mom" and "Oh her mom/dad has cancer" or "Oh her grandma/grandpa is about to die". Well, yippee fucking yay, because congratulations, you've found a reason to live.

You're not being told that you're nothing. You're not being told to fuck off. You're not being told to die.
You're not telling yourself you should die.
You're saying you can do this.
You can get over it. You can live. You can be happy.
You can love. You can be free. You can.

While that girl, over there, sitting alone.
Says to herself, "It ends today. It should end. Please let it end."
Every single day.

Another plea to take the pain away. To take the ugly away. To take the life.

To save them.

When no one does, they have proof then.

"I am ugly.

Because no one saved me."

海