The MonsterMature

Sometimes it's hard to stop yourself from thinking those thoughts.  They just come naturally, like you are naturally a terrible person thinking terrible thoughts and you have to struggle against your terrible humanity.  

I'm in the doctor's office waiting for my regular check up.  Waiting to check the extent of the damage.  Regularly reminding me of my horrible mistake and how bad my condition has gotten. What will it be this time?  Some irritating infection that normal people get rid of in a reasonable time, but for me, it will only enhance my hell a little more and probably never go away.  Either that or I'll get a new prescription to add to my roster of meds.

I try not to look at anyone for fear they will see my hideousness.  But then I notice her and I can feel the thoughts cloud my mind like a dark plague.  At least now I recognize them and their ugliness.  Before I just accepted them as natural human behaviour.  

The old me would have noted her hair, dyed an unfortunate brassy blonde that could have benefited from some toning.  I doubted she went to the hairdresser to dye it, though.  Probably just bought the $10 box of Blondissima from the drug store.  Probably thought how hot she was going to look after getting rid of her usually rodent brown hair.  And the style was even more unfortunate.  She had clearly used too much gel, further enhancing the brassy blonde as well as the unruly cowlicks that framed her abnormally small, squished in face.  Clearly she had chosen the wrong foundation for her skin tone, and could have used a bit of powder to lessen the oily shine of her unnaturally pink skin.  And how unfortunate to have adult braces!  They protruded through her lips even with her mouth closed.  She was prime makeover material and the old me would have fantasized about her new and improved look.  It wasn't as though she was a total loss, I'm sure some contacts to replace those nerdy glasses would be a major improvement alone.  A nice haircut and colour, some better makeup.  There wasn't much we could do about the braces. 

She had the usual uncomfortable, unsure of herself aura, as though she knew she was being analyzed by harsh monsters at all times.  What a terrible existence!  She had probably been ridiculed her whole life, pummeled into her current state of permanent self consciousness, wishing she could just be.  Just let her be!

Scrutinizing, categorizing, evaluating, putting everything into context, making sense of our surroundings, comparing ourselves to everyone around us.  Is this not human nature? I've never been particularly religious, but if I believed in the devil, this would surely be it.




The End

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