I'm ugly and I'm honest. This is the conclusion I came to one night while waiting to fall asleep. I shall not elude the ugly truth any longer. I am ugly because I am not up to par with the latest media-toned image presented by the local image factory. I am a mess, in terms of image. My clothes date back to decades that never existed. My style is nothing more than a human merely trying to survive. I'm not "cool," or "with it," or in any way a pop-culture symbol. I'm a nerd of the lowest common denominator.
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Don't tell me otherwise because I'm facing it — I'm true to myself. I have stopped pretending to chase an image which is not, and will never be, "me." If I were to start, I would end up one of those old cramps who dates — or at least tries to date — the younger cuties. The same younger cuties that totally ignored me when I was, as I still am, a youthful duke with forthright knowledge. I understand that that's downright disturbing. My mind is placed somewhere on the verge of insanity but is held back by an unbreakable beam of honest realization. Most people come to the ugly truth, go crazy and try to take the cruel world out with them. They might console themselves by thinking everyone is in the same boat. I don't have such illusions.
Most people who read this will be of the normal character — normal in that you can function within the social sphere with little or no effort. When you wake up, you do not see rejection sitting at the end of your bed, smiling wickedly as you prepare for the day. I have come to know this fellow and now I call him "friend." There is a certain freedom in knowing that no matter how hard you try, or how far you go to impress people, it will amount to nothing.
I love the ugly truth because it's a release. I no longer go drinking downtown in mad dance bars with the disturbed goal of a one-night-stand with someone as drunk as I am. Instead of this, I can relax and have a merry time watching other people struggle in search of attention. To stand silently at the end of a dance-floor would send the normal person into a deep depression, but for someone who has accepted the ugly truth, it is an amusing perspective.
For those who live, everyday, in search of some nod of approval — life can become a living hell. They go from rejection to rejection, in taunted fear of the next polite lie. It is not the rejections that hurt, but the lies that get under your skin. We lie every second of our lives. We fear even the slightest signal of our true being. This is why Judgement Day strikes fear in our hearts. Our sins are petty but our truths are deep, dark shadows. We live in the darkness from the ugly truth; it hangs over our heads, ready to drop and end our petty egos forever.
It is this deep, dark loathing from which I have rid myself. I am ugly, and I am honest about my ugliness. I thank God for it because it's my sanity and my humanity.