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I do believe that beauty is the stupidest thing in the entire world. To be quite honest with the whole idea, why on earth do people care so much about beauty?
If we did not have it, we don't get any attention. Yet if we do, attention gets poured onto us like caramel. A syrup that is sticky enough that will yet annoy us, but taste incredibly good.
Beauty truly is an annoying feature, although in some cases it makes the homo sapien feel good as to what it is known to be, their face.
Oscar Wilde once wrote a novel that truly explained the definition of what beauty is to a person. Of course, being narcissistic did become the 'plus one' throughout the novel, so I'm pretty sure that extremely narcissistic homo sapiens must think they are the child of Aphrodite.
Beauty, a word that solely means a combination of qualities that pleases the intellect or moral sense.
I got that from the encyclopedia if you can't tell. However, how would I know what the definition of beauty indicates if I don't even believe the word?
Beauty to me is merely a trait that only homo sapiens with high egos must know what it truly is. As for me, a normal homo sapien, beauty doesn't come close to what I describe myself, and others.
Lord Henry Wotton, a pleasing character if I do say so myself, makes Dorian Gray believe that the only thing important in life is beauty. Ha, stupidly funny, is it not? Well, Dorian Gray somehow realizes that he will become less beautiful as he grows older-shocking right?- and so he wishes for the painter to paint him a portrait of himself that would become old in his place.
Arriving at the end, the stupid Dorian Gray has the desire to kill the painting. So, of stabbing the painting, he, in the end, kills himself. Leaving himself looking old, and the portrait looking young.
Ahem, now, if I was talking to a narcissistic homo sapien about this book, of course, they would laugh and say that they don't give a donkey's arse.
Though, if I was talking to a normal homo sapien, me, I would simply say bravo to Oscar Wilde for trying to teach homo sapiens the truth of beauty.
I still think that beauty is a lie, and that milk is still the most disgusting liquid ever.
"What comes to your mind when you hear the word beauty?" I turn to ask Elijah, seeing as he is still on his phone, playing a game I can't recall.
"Beauty?" he questions, which I nod. "Julia Young," he mutters, making me gag in seconds.
"I think I just lost my lunch," I say, placing my hand onto my stomach in disgust.
"Oh shut up," he tells me, grabbing the pillow right under him and throwing it at me with a strong force. Luckily, I dodge it before it hits my face, causing Elijah to groan in annoyance. "Darn, I thought I had a good throw there."
"Trust me, you never do," I chuckle, watching as Elijah flips me the bird. "If your mum saw that, what would she think?"
He rolls his eyes, his eyes returning back to his phone. "She would probably break my finger and stick it where the sun doesn't shine Oliver," he grumbles, although a grin makes his face.
"Listen to me though," I say. "Do you remember the book we read last year in Literature class?" I ask him, seeing as he cocks his head to the side in confusion.
"Another book Oliver?" I nod in excitement. "Who's the author if you don't mind telling me."
"The great Oscar Wilde," I smile in glee. "Although he did write many novels so I don't know if you remember which book it was."
"The Happy Prince?" he answers.
"No," I shake my head. "Although that was a fantastic guess."
"Salome?" he questions yet again.
"I don't even think I read that book yet," I tell him.
"Jesus, I don't know Oliver." He puts his hands up in defeat, which I mock him in return. "Give me a clue."
Sighing I tap my jaw, thinking as to what clue to give him. "Picture."
"The Picture of Dorian Gray!" he exclaims with a snap of his fingers. "Gosh, aren't I intelligent," he says with joy.
"Of course you are," I roll my eyes, the hint of sarcasm is on the tip of my tongue as I see Elijah glare at me. "That was sarcasm if you couldn't tell correctly."
"I could tell just fine thank you," he murmurs, his eyes returning back onto his phone.
"What are you doing there anyway?" I ask, standing up from my chair and walking over. "It seems to me that you're keeping a secret from me, Eli," I joke.
"I'm just on Instagram," he mumbles under his breath, moving farther away as I walk closer to him. "Why are you so close to me?" He turns, raising an eyebrow up as he scowls at me.
"Well, it seems to me that by the way you are acting right now," he waves his index finger at me. "It looks like you're about to pounce on me."
I scoff, waving him off. "Nonsense Elijah. I just want to know what my dear old best friend is up to at the moment. That's all," I shrug as I step onto the bed and fall right on top of the boy.
"What in the world are you doing Oliver!" he shouts underneath me, trying his hardest to push my body off him. "You're suffocating me!"