There's this Agatha Christie novel I read when I was little (I don't remember which one it was, only that it's a Poirot one) and there's this character, a woman, who is stunningly beautiful and someone thinks? says? that beauty like that is bound to cause trouble - it does obviously, it's an Agatha Christie book, c'mon.
The point is that now I understand that sentiment.
And I also get where the whole 'beauty must die', the thought process of a mentally disturbed stalker turned killer/rapist comes from. That there is such a beauty that you can't just let be. You have to react to it. And sure, for me, a random squeaky person on the internet it's just OMG OMG he's so hot uhhhh, but for some it is HOW DARE YOU be so fucking perfect you asshole and then there are the if I can't have you types.
I'm incredibly lucky for not being beautiful. To have that stare back at you every morning? It must be pretty scary. I'm so very fine with being pretty on a good day, and nothing more. My genes, thanks.
