Sometimes, I don’t think people shall cover their face with another color.
The standard becomes higher and they want to be someone else.
Thicker.
Bloodier.
Blacker.
Lashier.
Minutes after minutes.
Mirror after mirror.
Maybe you’re getting better, but not younger.
Maybe you’re getting what you think you are.
But you’ve just become relative.
And colorless.
The worse thing is, it’s not permanent.
When it all wears out, I think your true color is the prettiest.