29.10.2025
Recently, I have begun disliking the sight of my face. It is not because I am ugly. Rather, it is because I am beautiful.
It is the beauty of the face that is causing upset. Because I look at it in the mirror, thinking to myself that that face has never done anything for me. Beauty is supposed to help someone find love. And it hasn’t.
It hurts me when people can’t believe that I don’t have anyone, when they tell me that I am so beautiful.
I am watching everyone around me get into a relationship at the drop of a hat. Whenever they want to. At any moment. Except for me. It doesn’t matter how long I know someone. It doesn’t matter how good the conversation is with them. It doesn’t matter how much I get on with them.
Someone put a curse on me when I was a child. That I would never have someone.
I am beginning to think that it would be best if I just peeled off that face. If someone with a knife just scraped all the skin off my face.
That way, my face would no longer be beautiful. And then, nobody would be able to see the colour of my skin. Nobody would be able to determine my ethnicity by looking at my face.
And then, maybe without a face, I would give up the dream of love. As long as I have this beautiful face, I keep on dreaming about love. And dreaming and dreaming. Without any love in my life.
diary of a lone man 