Snap

But I feel good when I look good.

Why can't that just be okay?

It doesn't mean I have to be associated with superficial, obsessive teenage girls who take makeup and clothes and general appearance so seriously that they have to make a mask before they let anyone see them. No one gets to see their real faces.
No. I don't do that...I just want to look beautiful to myself most of the time. Sure I spend a lot of time prepping my appearance before leaving the house but that's just hygenic and formal, in my opinion.

So to look good is to feel good, as a result I sound idealistic, materialistic, appearance-obsessed and just plain sad.

This body will soon morph into an elastic-y, tight, firm and lean, slim beach goddess-like bod.
I lied, but it'll come close.

To Be Queen of Your Thoughts

I’m sorry for the pedestals I placed you all on,

with the utmost unrealistic hope

But I just couldn’t help admiring you, and I made you look like a trophy;

Now, who else would have thought of raising you up

As triumphantly as I did?

Lately your trophy has gone askew

And the statue doesn’t even look like you

It resembles the crumbled face of someone

Whom lost himself to a battle.

So I placed you on the shelf, and you still held importance

I forced your mangled figure onto that shelf

Because you still lingered in my mind.

 I covered you up with books about how I really didn’t care

Books I wrote, forced into a state of emotionlessness—now that’s something we share.

Then one day the light hit my forgotten golden trophy,

So I knocked down the books, I noticed you—the pedestal was gone.

I sighed with relief but it still wasn’t over

I took you outside and I buried you in the deepest hole in the Earth.

The next year came, and I didn’t feel the same, 

My hope was finally set free.

Still, I longed to avenge you, if only to be Queen of your thoughts.

Then I turned to my window and on the ledge I saw

A boy was staring at me.

I felt something rise up from beneath my feet;

My hands and body coated in gold.

It was then I realized what was happening:

The statue on the pedestal…

is now me.

--Natalie Klett