Expressing affection in the utterance of the words “I love you” seems so simple, but it was a phrase I could never tell my parents or brothers. I love you. I love you. It should not be such a strenuous task. Tenderness was never my forte. With significant others, I constantly choked on the words; my trembling carcass spilled out with saliva and waste, but never an I-love-you. I wrote small essays delineating my fondness for people before and struggled orate the painful passages. I felt myself suffocating with the phrase lodged in my throat. My fondness can be found in a mess of unsent, unspoken written letters and in the white emptiness of a Word Document where I deleted a typed message. My love is evident in my counter-productive struggle to permanently leave parasitic individuals in my life. Much of my thoughts about them remain locked in the safety of my head, partly because an I-love-you is not enough, and partly because my verbal delivery of the words will taint the purity and meaning behind the words.

However, when I attach an I-love-you next your name, it seems to fit naturally in my mind.

"I’ve been in love before, it’s like a narcotic. At first it brings the euphoria of complete surrender. The next day you want more. You’re not addicted yet, but you like the sensation, and you think you can still control things.You think about the person you love for two minutes then forget them for three hours. But then you get used to that person, and you begin to be completely dependent on them. Now you think about him for three hours and forget him for two minutes. If he’s not there, you feel like an addict who can’t get a fix. And just as addicts steal and humiliate themselves to get what they need, you’re willing to do anything for love." ~Paulo Coelho

On the second to last day of summer, I, along with my parents, decided to explore a massive mall in San Bernardino called Ontario Mills. Our choice for that day was entirely on a whim and with only twenty or less minutes to prepare myself, I came to the resolution that, that day would be a makeup-free day.

A loud sales associate selling skin products targeted me that day. He approached me in a rude manner by stepping directly in front of me, demanding to know what brands I use and my methods of cleansing my face. Uncomfortable and peeved, I had to object several times to his prodding before I could move forward with my parents.

The methods he utilized were a stark contrast to the sales associates from other booths. While he seemed both desperate and forceful, the ones in the booths adjacent to his presented a relaxed image to those frequenting the mall by casually asking them if they were interested in so-and-so’s products.

Since I had been in the mall for nearly six hours, my face was probably colorless and drained or slightly red from exhaustion. I am not offended that he had terrible eyesight and couldn’t tell that I did not have acne. I, in fact, am offended that he tried to force me into a corner to aggressively coerce me buy his merchandise simply because he thought that there was something wrong with my face.

Makeup is always an interesting topic because it is associated with appearance, where many people’s insecurities lie. I once knew a girl that dated her boyfriend for three years and not once did he see her without her combination of foundation, powder, blush and blush, eye shadow, eye and brow liner, false eyelashes, and colored contacts. Her face was such an overwhelming package of cosmetics on a daily basis that whenever she took off her contacts, pus would come out of her eyes and skin appeared tired from the weight of its daily abuse.

When that man walked into my life that day in that single moment, I felt like he was implying my face was not good enough without makeup.

Many people I have befriended see themselves in that light, which I can truly empathize with. Makeup allows one’s beauty to radiate by complementing one's facial features. The skin glows with warmth, free of imperfection from a well-blended mix of bronzer, blush, foundation, and power.  Eyebrows and lips appear luscious and full thanks to eyebrow pencil and coats of lip balm, lip gloss, and/or lip stick.  The multi-faceted hues of the eye are emphasized through use of eye shadow and eyeliner.

However, there's no shame in bags and lines under the eyes, unfilled brows, one's natural lip color, and uneven coloration of skin tone. I think there’s something seductive about a completely natural and naked face.

Natural beauty, I find, is often overlooked by the imperfections we create in our mind and in ourselves. I appreciate my tired eyes, sharp nose, and gentle eyebrows. A unique mole marks my right cheek, where I have childlike pink flush which meshes well with my tan complexion. I am short and tiny, but there are times when I wish I could be thinner or more angular in terms of facial structure. Where I am in my life and what I have grown into is perfectly fine to me though. In the end, I have an immense constellation of feelings, thoughts, experiences, and physical qualities, and I do not need an outside opinion on how to dictate myself as I have grown into myself and become content just being Stephanie.

Uneven coloration of skin. Eye bags. Dark circles. Birth marks. Large pores.

Be gone unwanted hair. Fade away, stretch marks. Mask bodily odors. Diminish blemishes. Destroy evidence of wrinkles. Avoid aging. Straighten teeth. Whiten them too.

Uneven distribution of hair for the eyebrows. Not full and thick, but sparse. Suck in that bulging gut. Thunder thighs and wide feet. Flabby arms and flabby legs. A flat plane for a chest. Dirty nails. Large lumps for a butt. Coarse hands. Dry knuckles. Dark knees and elbows. Unbalanced eye creases. Parched, chapped lips.

Part of me feels like all this nitpicking is making me disappear.

In spite of all the flaws I constantly see in myself, I saw my naked face and thought I was very beautiful on Sunday morning.

Where do I stand in most of my relationships? Here and there, I have established sincere and solid connections, unyielding to the time that has passed. Nearly all of my bonds with people though, are rather weak and vapid. Almost worthless.

Best friend seems to be an honorary title. Friend becomes a synonym for acquaintance. Where does my loyalty lie? I find the ties between me and my best friend ruined with the stain of her selfishness and reckless irresponsibility. We are so close, yet so far away. At this point, I have given her up. I could drop her and walk away from the cherished friendship we once had.

I desire intimacy, while repulsed and repelled from deepening those relationships. I always feel like I am clinging shamelessly to someone and once I have served my use as another stepping stone in their life, s/he will let go of my hand and I will disappear into obscurity.         

I’ve fallen out of love with a lot of people. I don’t care. Many people regard my unaffectionate and reserved nature as strange. Sometimes though, I think it is the complete opposite. I felt and cared so much, and being misused by close friends has made me numb.

Expecting their guidance and warmth, their interference only complicated my issues or it was a disappointing lack of a response. Their misguided support, however well meaning, has made me feel more alone in my problems.

I don’t want another best friend, who will leave me without knowing it.

Emotionally compromised, my body trembles with weakness and my frustration presents itself plainly in my usually neutral face. Beholden to my feelings, I cannot easily dismiss them. It’s not a small object that can be tucked into a faraway vacant corner and remain forgotten or put on hold. Feelings demand to be felt.

In a battle between mind vs. heart, my rationale usually wins and my feelings are left neglected. I ignore them until my insides feel like nothing.

An acquaintance once told me, “I can’t help but feel as if you’ve seen a lot of misery and this has been ingrained upon you. You put on a smile to show a happy face, but your eyes show otherwise. It’s like your eyes are saying: I have seen it before and it doesn’t really affect me anymore.” At a party, a palm reader told me that I have and will deal with hardship, and that I have an amazing ability to overcome them. I seemed to be the only person she said that to at the party.

I found myself caught off guard by those comments. My eyes, as I looked into the palm reader’s face, began to water and there I was, naked against her sympathetic gaze. The pain that I had disregarded was finally being recognized and I was very ashamed. A woman I barely knew was able to pinpoint my weakness, yet people I have known for years have such a vapid glimpse into my personality.

However, I can’t be too disappointed in them. Two of the closest people in my life are people I haven’t even met. That in itself is a testament to my reserved nature. My best friend in real life is not much of a best friend. I never trusted my friend from sixth grade with the truth of my upbringing. Outside of the house, I have a clean slate and a family life that isn’t a depressing power struggle. My image as a confident and goofy girl is not something I am fully comfortable tarnishing.

I don’t want to give it up and I am hurt more than people know. I don’t trust most people with my problems, nor do I expect them to be reliable. Putting faith in people is so incredibly painful for me.

I saw a Korean drama recently about a king’s love for a concubine, who he eventually sentences to death due to the pressure of politics. As I waited for the concubine’s destiny to be fulfilled, I couldn’t help thinking about the steps that led to her death. Did he fall out of love with her? Did he fall in love with another woman? How long can you stay in someone’s favor before s/he lets you go?

One of my friends confessed to me, “I don’t believe in love.” I suppose I’m not too far from that mindset. The fact that people can simply let go of someone is upsetting. Promises end up worthless and cherished memories are trashed. I just... cannot fathom how people can abandon others without hesitation.

My confession is that I am disgusted in myself for believing in many people and that I do not want to believe in them, because I so desperately want to believe that behind their beautiful smile, there is sincerity rather than an ungrateful soul.