So Much Beauty

I've been thinking a lot about beauty recently. Possibly because I've given up almost entirely on my own. I can see a sort of glowing warmth sometimes when I look into the mirror, or into friends eyes when they show their affection. Still, it's hardly ever reflected in photographs - there's something about a camera, so harsh and callous, that robs the softer aspects of our appearance from our bodies. And I hardly care about it anymore; I know quite well that whomever loves me, does so not based on appearance but something else: my intelligence, my spirits, my loyalty or madness perhaps, who knows. It certainly ain't for my pretty eyes.

Which raises the question... If I acknowledge the fact that beauty is not the most important part of one's existance, and that it is tragically and detrimentally overrated nowadays... Can I still allow myself to appreciate it in others? Some people do work well with cameras, in such a way that is as aesthetically pleasing as watching a beautiful flower or work of art. That does, at the same time, involve some objectification of the people involved... Is it morally wrong, or humanly understandable?

Either way... I love the fact that I'm accepting myself as the ugly witch that I am. Witchy me has power... that has it's own inherent beauty, methinks.