Saturday, March 29, 2008
Exquisite Masks
My infamous italics rule applies from here within and always. "And that's where you're wrong...It would have changed everything.
A touch of expensive Clinique Precious Posy Blushing Blush.
A dabble of MAC Mineraliz(s)ed SatinFinish SPF 30.
Touches of Pantene Pro-V Daily Moisture Renewal.
What does this all mean anyway?
I hide.
Away from the world.
Why did I suddenly invest in expanses of makeup and beauty products right after HSC?
Why is the timing so precise yet I never truly picked up on it? And neither have they?
People ask why I bother. They don't understand beauty. They don't understand fear.
It starts off as a little fun, a small way to dispose of our undervalued, hard-earned cash into something deemed productive simply because it requires patience and practise. You find yourself obsessing over something than just mere colours, textures and plain vanity.
The beach dried my hair. The salt and sun definitely made it seem as though I was wearing hair gel, but it looked as though my curls stayed fairly put. I'm going to Bondi yet I brought hair conditioner, not to mention hair ties, brush, eye drops, mints, perfume balm and lip moisturiser. It makes me feel so shallow sometimes, but it's just so...necessary. It's important to make yourself feel comfortable, which is hardly derived from a beach outing. To my dismay, I found new freckles. It's adding to my collection. It's worse than getting a pimple!
There is longing here while I am watching the span of waves. There is longing as the sound of wind and sand trail past from thunking footsteps. I see them, always together, always protected. Their sphere marks them special, depriving this outsider. I turn to the comfort of artificial glamour.
Turn to the exquisite mask of arrogant perfection. Don't you just love my smooth skin and full hourglass figure?
There is nothing to stop the cold tingling.
There is nothing to stop the void.
And it's over in a flashing of kinetics as I am submerged, struggling to breathe, grasping to reach and break the surface. Concentrate. There's another one coming.
Yet it feels good being carried by the current.
A lifeless body to go with my blood.
It comes again under a distant thunder; a second frightening relevation.
What the hell are you talking about?
It's funny how I was never match made.
"That's because nobody confessed they liked you."
It hurts just a bit.
T and N seem worthless to mention.
I forget, and prepare for the next masquerade behind grey eyes.
~~~
` Serena
PS: Reila is not the only fiction lover.
No comments:
Post a Comment