Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Too Damn Pretty
11 reviewsOne shouldn't be allowed to be that pretty. No. I wouldn't allow it.
5Original
He has the prettiest eyes. Dark green with little flecks of brown encased by perfect eyelashes that add to his feminine nature. I never have to see his gorgeous orbs anymore though. He's much too frightened to look up, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. Especially me.
He has the prettiest smile. A smile so bright that not even the sun can compete. Teeth so small with just the right amount of crooked-ness to be absolutely adorable. I never have to see his lips turned heavenwards anymore though. He's much too terrified to even fake a smile. Especially for me.
He has the prettiest voice. It's as if who ever created us decided velvet would be a better fit for him rather than regular vocal chords. I never have to hear his irresistable words anymore. He's much too scared to mutter even the simplest response, much less sing in that perfect way of his. Especially for me.
He's just too perfect. Too damn pretty. It's not fair. One shouldn't be allowed to be that damn pretty. No. I wouldn't allow it. So I decided to fix it. Make it so I wouldn't have to be taunted by his beauty day in and day out.
As Mr. Perfect was putting his art away in his locker, I confronted him. He smiled and greeted me in a way that made me shocked that I hadn't melted right then. His sweet smile made my knees weak, but there was no way I couldn't go through with my plan to even things out. I grabbed the beautiful boy in front of me by his shoulder length black hair-oh god his hair. It was so fucking soft. At the first touch I thought of just walking away, but I refused to let this gorgeous boy flaunt himself any longer. I took his perfectly messy hair and banged his head against his locker. Over and over and over. Then I attacked his flawless face, bruising his amazing eyes. I pulled away to examine my work.
With blood and tears running down his contorted features...he still looked absolutely beautiful. It-it's not fair. IT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR! In this new fit of rage, I threw the beauty god to the ground and kicked, punched, -and at one point bit- until a puddle of blood surrounded the two of us. I was then satisfied with watching the beautiful heap on the ground wither in pain. I could have watched the gorgeous creature for hours, but I knew my mother would worry if I wasn't home soon. With one last good kick, I left.
That was last week. My plan worked perfectly. I no longer have to be taunted with his pretty eyes or his pretty smile or his pretty voice anymore. It's his fault, really. No one should be that damn pretty.
He has the prettiest smile. A smile so bright that not even the sun can compete. Teeth so small with just the right amount of crooked-ness to be absolutely adorable. I never have to see his lips turned heavenwards anymore though. He's much too terrified to even fake a smile. Especially for me.
He has the prettiest voice. It's as if who ever created us decided velvet would be a better fit for him rather than regular vocal chords. I never have to hear his irresistable words anymore. He's much too scared to mutter even the simplest response, much less sing in that perfect way of his. Especially for me.
He's just too perfect. Too damn pretty. It's not fair. One shouldn't be allowed to be that damn pretty. No. I wouldn't allow it. So I decided to fix it. Make it so I wouldn't have to be taunted by his beauty day in and day out.
As Mr. Perfect was putting his art away in his locker, I confronted him. He smiled and greeted me in a way that made me shocked that I hadn't melted right then. His sweet smile made my knees weak, but there was no way I couldn't go through with my plan to even things out. I grabbed the beautiful boy in front of me by his shoulder length black hair-oh god his hair. It was so fucking soft. At the first touch I thought of just walking away, but I refused to let this gorgeous boy flaunt himself any longer. I took his perfectly messy hair and banged his head against his locker. Over and over and over. Then I attacked his flawless face, bruising his amazing eyes. I pulled away to examine my work.
With blood and tears running down his contorted features...he still looked absolutely beautiful. It-it's not fair. IT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR! In this new fit of rage, I threw the beauty god to the ground and kicked, punched, -and at one point bit- until a puddle of blood surrounded the two of us. I was then satisfied with watching the beautiful heap on the ground wither in pain. I could have watched the gorgeous creature for hours, but I knew my mother would worry if I wasn't home soon. With one last good kick, I left.
That was last week. My plan worked perfectly. I no longer have to be taunted with his pretty eyes or his pretty smile or his pretty voice anymore. It's his fault, really. No one should be that damn pretty.
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