one day, when your skin grows wrinkled and you cannot hide your monstrosity behind filler, facetunes, likes, or filters, you will look into the mirror unable to keep convincing yourself that your beauty is enough to override and mask the atrocities you��ve helped carry out; the children, mothers, men, and people you’ve destroyed; the lush culture you tried to eradicate; the natural world you have demolished. what will you do then? you are an ugly and corrupt human and that is something your spirit will always know to be true—your physical insecurities are merely a marker for the deep seated discomfort of being a vicious and murderous human.