Beauty In The Multiverse
Beauty is a construct of society. I state that with certainty because our standard/ideal of beauty has been one of the most predictably everchanging aspects of society over the years. That alone is difficult to keep track of, without the two other standards of beauty existing in the alternate universes of Anorexia and Luka. The definition of beauty in anorexia's universe largely differs from that of my own. The contradiction severely confuses me daily which greatly impacts my decision-making and mood. Beauty in the multiverse is a phenomenon, one that I wonder if I will ever understand.
Beauty In The Multiverse Of Anorexia.
In this world, beauty is warped by the lens of a plague. Nonetheless, the plague reinforces beauty as it pleases, despite what havoc it wreaks, what miserable emotions it conjures or to what dangerous degree it demands. You see, part of its perception of beauty lies within its harm, encouraging the concept of an individual being special if they can persevere through its course. Living on the knife's edge of life and death isn't cunning in this multiverse, it's ethereal. One's negligence to their mind and body is praised and ongoing cases are expected. There is no finish line written in the sand. The sand is endlessly blank and its lapping water grows increasingly treacherous the further along that it is walked.
To put it simply, its beauty knows no end, despite the reality that death indeed exists as an end.
I glamorise the predictability of my ability to control my thoughts, shape, weight and feelings. I can control parts of myself in a way that I was once unable to. It alleviates me from the shame of existing with the parts of myself I have always hated. Instead, I portray myself how I desire, as a sweet box, tied with a neat bow. And it's beautiful because no matter how ugly the world around me becomes, the person it speaks to has one form of protection and that is its exterior... my seemingly predictably perfect exterior.
Hollow doesn't just exist in this multiverse, it is a multiverse itself, for I am not only hollow in the sense that my stomach is void of food but that my soul is void of life. I don't know when I began fearing life so much but nonetheless, in this multiverse I do. In experiencing life, my troubles double, I feel everything. Yes, the good but the bad, triumphantly. Lifelessness purges me of my worries of yesterday, today and tomorrow.
And this hollowness evokes a beautiful ecstasy as I dance in the daylight that is my chosen, boiling sun.
Beauty In The Multiverse Of Luka.
Luka is an entirely different entity when she's separated from anorexia, which, unfortunately, doesn't happen very often anymore. I miss Luka. I miss the person I used to be and I miss the person I thought I was going to become. Sometimes the only time I ever really feel like myself is with my family because the person I miss is someone they've never forgotten. To me, that's the most beautiful thing in the world because I've given them plenty of time to forget me. In fact,it feels as though parts of me died long ago. Without them, I'd never remember myself and I do, I do remember on occasion and when it does it's wonderful. However, when it does, the wonderful moment is soon erased by the poignance of realising that the person who just came alive was a little girl who'd been turned to stone, unspoken to and unheard for almost a decade. And the parts that aren't erased are tinged with the promise that there is no promise as to when or if it might occur again. The one thing that is promised is that when or if it does, it will be with my family. Because they're the ones who never lose hold of the person they once knew. They remember the things that once made me laugh, the things we once loved to do, the fact that we used to dance and the dreams I used to have. It is only because of that, that I ever find her, the response I would've once given to a joke, a movement, a question or an idea.
I'll be honest with you, Dolls, most days I do not yearn for my recovery. I am deeply conflicted within myself, past the point where I can resist the strength of anorexia. Whilst there is little to no force I find within to defend myself, I manage to source the force that is my love for being with my family. The beauty of our love is unimaginable. I source strength as I picture a time when we'll get to be together again, as I remember their many words of pride and encouragement and as I savour the knowing feeling of our connection. To imagine a world without them is one horrifying thing, but to know that they are horrified when they imagine a world without me, despite my belief that my existence is meaningless, is a beautiful paradox of two contradictory viewpoints that manage to attain harmony.
I've never had a very analytical brain, it's always been primarily creative. So it isn't surprising that the more I focused on analysing myself, the more I lost that side of me. I became negligent over what I once achieved as all of my goals became driven by compulsion, depression and fear. The feelings that my creative outlets brought about were beautiful ones of satisfaction, comfort and joy, even back then, when I may not have appreciated the abilities I now lack. Writing, art, schoolwork presentations and projects, singing, piano, dancing, songwriting, and sports used to be things I had the required mental and physical capacity for. It isn't beautiful that my mind and body have been cruelly destroyed to the extent that I even forget, for months and years, the things I loved before anorexia became so severe. Can you believe that my own mind won't and doesn't even allow me the pleasure of a beautiful memory? I'm unable to reminisce, relish and recall, instead all that I'm able to do is succumb to the truth that I've become consumed by illness.
The sad truth I've come to understand about beauty is that ugliness, true, pure ugliness can emerge from it. The beauty that has never turned sour when I immerse myself in it is the beauty that cannot age, the sort found within our hearts, our memories and fond moments. The times when I have felt I understand beauty the most have been the times that I've been distanced from anorexia the most. Whilst I can recognise that, it doesn't change the intense effect that the universe in which anorexia seems beautiful has on my life.
Kisses,
COS x
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