This story was written by Abe Olusola Richard,.also known as Klassique.

I’m a stranger in this land, please count me out of her citizens. I don’t belong to this generation, the one where the fake is seen as being real, where abnormal has become a generally acceptable normalcy.

Two years ago, Abeke was the most dashing figure to Akanbi. Even if he was told to go to “Al-janah” and find a cure to the ulcer embattling Abeke, he would not blink or breathe or even raise a brow before jumping on his feet and set on the journey. He always remembered the last time he did something for the first time, and the first time seemed to him not to be a right time until the whole best time turned to a bad time.

“She is beautiful”. You just said that, right? Okay if the Mary kay foundation she layed her beauty_lie foundation on is the scale on which you based your rating, or the talcs and concealer she used to conceal her tribal marks and all the dark spots on her face is what makes you feel she’s the most charming on the planet earth, then you need to take a sit and figure reality out from the fantasies clouding your sense of judgement.

I nearly dated my former girlfriend twice because the first time I dated her, she was a depot of melanin, but the second time I asked her out after meeting her years later, the lady I met was just as pure and white as snow. Is that what they call beauty? Going fake to get rate rather than leaving it up to fate.

The frog in Adenike’s eyes could be a prince to Adesewa. The plastered, battered and scarred face is not a sin or sign of miserable life, it should rather be a sign of victory to the bearer. The scars are there to remind you that you have won yet another battle, so don’t fight another personal psychological destructive battle trying to fix yourself up with the pan cake and different colors like a chameleon to look beautiful.

Till last night, I always confessed my love to her, I even thought she has no flaws because she looked so perfect, but I had to run a few kilometer away the day she slept over in my room. My eyes could not believe the mermaid-like lady I brought home last night suddenly transformed to a troll over the night after taking a shower.

She said “go to hell”, I said, “please can you help with the transport fare?” That’s hillary-ous right? But never have I ever been trump-ed in this game of choice. When I set my two optical eggs on an angel, I can easily tell because albino does not need any further introduction in market.

Ever read about that blind Israelite slave called Esther? Obviously she was chosen by the king probably not because she happened to be the most beautiful contestant during the beauty pageant, but I can categorically tell you this, king saw in her that inherent hidden beauty that the whole city could not see.

I look most times, but still couldn’t see, I walk most times, but still never move, I scream most times but still made no sound. Often times have I heard, but never listened. That which seems beautiful to you, if truly it is beautiful, then it should be beautiful to me also, because whatever is beautiful is beautiful and that which is ugly is ugly. Please, never tell me that in the eyes of the beholder lies beauty, rather, tell me that, that which is beautiful is beautiful and that which is not is not, no mediocre.

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