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- Apr 16, 2025
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None of this will matter in the end, because we’re all going to die. If the only thing people remember me for is how good I looked—or if they have to uphold false stories to make my death feel more sentimental—I don’t want that. I plan to live my life peacefully on a hill, tending to my soon to be garden and caring for my cat. Maybe I’ll find a lover. I don’t want to look back and regret living a life consumed by the shallow chasing of beauty. It does nothing but bring compliments and attract people who more than likely do not care for me as a person. This concept of beauty was created by humans, like everything else, and I can no longer bring myself to believe that my appearance should dictate the course of my life. Not like I stood on that righteousness for others, it was more so myself. Nothing truly even matters, at all.