I’ve never been okay with not expressing my opinion. I’ve wanted to be okay with it, but all of my efforts to control the stubborn, often preemptive, voice inside of me have given way under the pressure of my curiosity to know what, both, you and I think about everything right now all at once and what we can do about it. I know that, as I age, I will become more patient. I am waiting until then.
I didn’t want to make skincare, but I didn’t not want to; I just wanted to do something so that I didn’t pace so much and also do something that would Band-Aid my poor genetics and anxious insomniac-induced circles under my eyes.
I am ascetically aware, like most people, but I admit it and I also admit that it is not the only thing—in fact I’d rather witness your mind in language expressed in your own particular parole and find the beauty there—but we are not without it, and we shouldn’t be; it is one of many facets of our existence that I absolutely love and know to be crucial.
We are not without our visual, sensual memories of the fog of morning dissipating over the mountains in Lake Louise, or of the sleeping giant resting within the expansive lake Superior at dusk, or of a full moon on a clear night on a day that we’ve decided we are okay, finally, and everything seems to agree.
We need these beautiful, visual confirmations of our humanness; we honor them and share them on instagram and facebook and call these visuals euphoric, life-changing, beautiful, self-identifiable, and yet we fuss so much over calling our personal visual identity by similar words.
I admit, the commercial idea of beauty has provided much insecurity for those who want a visual identity, but I just want everyone to know that you have one, and you should honor it and call it by its name. Make it the beautiful that you understand from the same part of you that thinks the moon is beautiful which is not the same part of you that wonders why you don’t look like X or Y.
Find the things that support this self-fulfilled concept of beautiful and honor it, but don’t pretend your visual, ascetic identity doesn’t matter. It does, by your own terms, but it does. I am tired, because you guys have been buying up my products like crazy and I can’t keep up and I love that and it makes me feel beautiful, and I finally love the circles under my eyes because I understand what they mean.