sfoweihoindfawe. woiehweioweoirbeiewr!! I can’t… I just cant!
Reichenbaaaaaaach!!!
I don’t even have proper enough gifs to convey how I’m feeling.
I just… Oh gods… Reichenbach!
Every time I hear Reichenbach or Fall my heart squeezes.
Reichenbach, Reichenbach, Reichenbach, fall, fall, fall.
Dear gods. I’m only thirty minutes into the episode and the feels are already pressing down on me.
I’ve reached Reichenbach. I can press play and start watching it now.
I don’t know if I can do this.
But if I don’t watch it tonight, I might have to wait a month before I get the chance.
Which is worse?
I’m going to have fantangles again.
Why do I have to be sexy?
There’s so much pressure to be thin, to have an hourglass figure, to be perfectly shaven, to have expertly done makeup, and to have fashionable clothing.
I’m not skinny.
My eyebrows are a bit too thick.
I have split ends and my hair needs redyed.
My arms could probably use a shave.
I’ve got some stubble on my legs.
My waist is not small.
My clothing has rips, cuts, and are unfashionable.
My eyeliner is too thick.
My eyes are too small.
I’ve got more scars than I can count.
I am not society’s standards of beauty. If I worked harder, I might get closer. I could diet and exercise. I could scope magazines for makeup tips. I could shave, wax, tweeze and trim. I could get money from somewhere and buy a whole new wardrobe and even personally tailor it to fit. I could get surgery to make my eyes a bit larger or to make my breasts perkier.
Why should I have to?
It doesn’t matter what style I choose. Punk, Goth, Lolita, Prep, Cyber, Steampunk or anything else. There is always the pressure, even underneath the guise of acceptance of the unique and strange. Not everyone pressures you but some will. Enough will.
Why should I change myself to match society’s image of beauty?
Why can’t I just be cute?
Why can’t I be plain?
Why can’t I just be me?
Why can’t I just be?
It’s not society who has to live with this body and this face.
I am the one who has to live with it.
I am the one who can set my own standards of beauty.
I can find the plain in me and like it.
I can find the cute in me and adore it.
I can find the beautiful in me and admire it.
One day I will stop seeing the ghost of the beauty that society pressures me to be.
One day I will see myself and realize that it doesn’t matter what anyone else says.
I am me and there’s nothing wrong with that.
