Exhibitionsm of the Awful

That day I fell in love. Also that day, I felt betrayed by own bravery. She was there, breathing, while I was there, unappealing. I thought I have the right to fall in love, which is naive. I thought I was brave, which is useless. When I approach her, she stood in disbelief, not making an effort to just seeing my existence.
“Hi there.”
She sit there, no words uttered.
“Um, I really like your red jacket.”
She sit there, drinking her wine.
“You know they said for Taurus people red is the best lucky charm. What month you were born?”
She’s still there, opening her purse, grabbing her phone.
“I’m sorry I am rude. I’m Shea.”
I was at her right side, yet she look to the left, giving me the scenery of her thin back, talking to her phone.
I felt like being crushed to the ground, dishonored, betrayed by own body for having such an unappealing face.
So I show my body to people. All people, woman, drunkard, passerby. I need anything to see me. I’m flying and indeed I am high. As I find this thrilling act, I feel I’ve made the world pay for my ugly face : all those appealing faces became dreadful as they grow disgust towards me.
And there I am, broken hearted, yet still ugly. And there I am, hoping someone to see me. I was there when making the world pay, I’m there as I stoop into the lowest floor of the world. She was there, at the place where everything became dreadful.

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