Rutted and pitted, but outwardly polished for the public. When surrounded by admirers, I put my best shine on with a bit of the finest polish money can buy, but when in private I recede back into myself for a period of self-examination…Self-harassment, really. I hate my appearance – the face I see on any TV channel I flick to, this name that is far past the level of a household brand. No bad word could ever be spoken about this almighty public visage of mine, so I take responsibility to balance it out and berate myself during private moments.
I look at myself in the mirror…a miserable human decked out in frilly pink and sporting stains of dried blood from lonely self-atonement. The purity of white no longer exists; I am only this splotchy muddle of emotions that feels terrible for being worshipped. I think…
I think I shall entirely turn my pink to red.