The perception of Beauty and how it slowly kills you

Today I feelt beautiful. I feelt free, I feelt awake. 

But my perception of beauty is so fragile and fleeting, so when I see myself I don't know it's me. 

I don't think I look like I feel. Like I'm trapt in this disgusting body and I need to birth out of it like a butterfly to finally be me. 

 

 

Like it's a cosmic joke that all the godesses are in on. I don't know, like for tonight then, here is my scenario:

I'm dancing, the music is beating, I am with the music, a part of it. I see in a mist people dancing with me, and then crystal clear my eyes meet mine in the mirror. I don't recognize her. That person. That ballon of humen and pig combined. Like a freak accident in the mental hospital. And I get awkward, I don't really feel like dancing anymore. I feel dumb and ugly.

And then a beat of drumms, a smile and someone grabbing my hand and I start to dance again. I melted into the music again.

Like I already broke thru that shell of me and bursted into a butterfly. 
When I got home, and all the way home I keept thinking that I always wanted to feel this way. That I didn't want my perception of my beauty to run out and I wanted everyone to see that I also could be beautiful.

Before I washed that makeup of. 

Before anyone can see me in this body that isent mine.