I just looked at a mirror camera selfie and tried not to angle fraud and see what I looked like candid. The results were horrific. I then went to my mirror and checked all angles and just started sceeaming and crying. I punched my mirror and tore up everything on my room and screamed “I hate my face” and crawled into a fetal position and cried into a pillow.I’m getting so sicj of it I dont know what to do anymore u guys. I’m out of copes.
I doubt any man, if he was actually honest with himself, could argue in good faith that the cosmos is not a wicked thing. It's hardly a coincidence, is it, that when primeval man dream of the ways that the world came to be, he so often imagined it being fashioned from the corpse of some grand beast slain by a divine hero. The world is a monster that can at very best be tamed, and our first dreams of it as our seers and poets were weaving their myths recognized this horrible fact. This monster devours itself constantly, sustaining itself by drinking its own blood and consuming its own flesh. Creation and Destruction differ only in that they are slightly different ways of understanding the Universe's endless self-cannibalism.
Yet, like all monsters, the Cosmos has learned a kind of black magic through which it can draw light up from even the most profound darkness. Through its constant immolation it has at long last burned hot enough to not only shed light but also give rise to things capable of recognizing its brilliance. Fundamentally a blessing to the former and a burden to the latter, Nature has taught the men and monsters She miraculously birthed the capacity to recognize and love beauty.
Even the monsters who cannot participate directly in that loveliness are helpless but to fall under its spell. Though a thing born to darkness, best suited to those places beyond the reach of the light of both sun and stars, it still feels its breath quicken and heart elated by the glow of the sunrise as it bleeds into the sky or the stark loveliness of the nighttime firmament, each its stars suggesting endless unseen worlds and all of their apparently limitless possibilities. The ghoul who will inevitably carry his bloodline down into the grave with no hope of passing it on through progeny, denied the kind of eternity nearly every living thing finds meaning in, can still contemplate the ocean as it reaches toward the horizon and feel something approaching a sense of eternity. There are moments when the things reviled by Nature see just a glimpse of Her beauty and, transfixed, can close their eyes and dream of what it would be like to be adored by Her.
Sadly, such illusions mere slight of hand, cheap little bits of sorcery stolen from Mother Nature's obscene grimoire. The magician's glittering illusion, grand though it may seem, is easily dispelled with nothing more than a simple mirror. A monster forced to look at its own repulsive visage has no choice but to acknowledge it has no place in the sunlit world. The ghoul's once pleasant reverie ends abruptly and anxiety seizes it. It looks to the nighttime sky and watches as the stars, unwilling to share the darkness with something so disgusting, shudder and fall beneath the horizon in a desperate attempt to rejoin the sun. Perhaps in a fit of rage the monster shatters the mirror, hoping to resurrect the happy delusion it enjoyed before its private little Paradise was lost.
Too late, of course, for such dramatic gestures. Far too late. The monster has been initiated into the truth, has learned the distinction between Beauty and Ugliness, Life and Death and, most significantly, to which portion of this duality it belongs. It now sees the hatred and resentment in the face of every woman who returns his most casual glance; each pair of eyes other than its own becomes nothing more than another mirror serving to remind it of the inescapable fact that the only place it will ever have in the world of actual human beings is as an outcast and exile.
In the same way it would have been better for men to never have learned the knowledge of Good and Evil, it would have been a blessing for monsters to never have seen the light regardless of how beautiful it may be.
Just as sin has no authority in a truly innocent world, mirrors have no meaning in the dark.
