There is nothing quite like the ugly. In a world where bodies of beautiful people, beautiful souls, beautiful words decompose the exact way the ugly does, then why would the purity of beauty even matter? If my rosy lips are chapped, my black nails are chipped, and my perfectly aligned teeth are yellowing, then my beauty is not out of this world. Maybe my fingers have tampered with more than a few lies and shoelaces. In this world, there is nothing quite like the ugly.