Diary of a Cynic

van·i·ty /ˈvanədē/

People started loving themselves too much when social media was invented. It's the platform for people to showcase themselves out in the world, to say whatever they want, to show what other dick pics they want to any dating apps Google play store has to offer, and of course to be the completely liar they have always been about themselves.

You think the guy from your English class has a better life just so he posts his vacation in an exotic island on Facebook, when he actually stole the money he used?

You think this lovely couple on Instagram are actually in love when in person one of them is actually banging the girl next door?

You think she's so religious because she's posting nothing but Bible verses everyday on her twitter, when actually she masturbates to porn every time she's alone at home ?

You think this guys is seeking attention from all of his "suicide attempt" posts all over Facebook, so you bash him all around and the next day the guy's dead?

Welcome to the world inside a mind of a cynical person.

Let's all admit; every click we do on a website, every links we share, every picture we post; all are for the betterment of our human facade that we so strongly built, cover up and contour. We are not the people we post on our social media profile. It's either tell them just a percentage of the truth and then edit the bad parts out. You edit your flab, the blemish on your face, your big waist, your small eyes. And all the make up underneath you are still just as sad as you were. 

Let's all admit that women put themselves to be blamed as liars everyday.

Kylie Jenner for example. She's the epitome of fake. She's the epitome of the womanhood who wants to be famous for being fake and still be adored by many. We bash her for her overdone lips, sawed off jawline, puckered lips and the typical breasts implants. But we are secretly addicted to her. Addicted to her Instagram feed. Addicted to the brand of her cosmetics. Addicted to the branded clothes and shoes. Addicted to her lifestyle. Addicted to her controversial social life. And we all know deep inside you wanna look like her, dress like her, act like her and eventually you want to be her. 

That, my friend, is the awful irony we all deny ourselves everyday we see Kylie Jenner on her Instagram.

She's sitting pretty on one chair as the people around her stride back and forth for the pageant. Everyone's at their peak, for it is the night one girl would win a singular title and a plastic crown for a price. It's not Miss Universe, nor Miss Earth or any of the known pageants in the world. But it mattered to her that she takes this crown, for this crown is her stepping stone, this could be her big break, she could be famous.

She watches the other contestants clamped up in the tiny room, their make up artists running back and forth; parents come in to spot their daughters; friends with camera snap pictures. But she was finished. She's ready and she's in her long beige gown, ready to catwalk and kill.

She sighed in her outmost relief but deep inside the crown burned in her. Her desire is to kill them with kindness. 

Her hairstylist came to her, whispering that it's 5 minutes before they start so she should get up and walk off the dress. She waved her hand at him to stop, and rolled her eyes as though she was trying to say that she knows the dress works very well on her. But she got up and did what she was told. 

She stood up and her breast implants jiggle on her strapless beige gown, curving her ferociously slim body, tightening to her legs and then leaving space for her feet to walk. Right then she took storm in the room. All of the other girls and their hairstylists, friends and family looked at her astounded and breathless at her sight. She know what effect she had and how she'd intimidate them. She placed her hand her on her waist, and curved her body upright, flipped her chin up and again, breathing she took the dress a test drive; she cat walked herself out the door, bouncing her breast implants, smirking at every girl, and striding behind her are 3 of her stylists and 2 of her make up artists. Right when she left the door, the girls started yelling at the people surrounding them. One girl patted her bra and took out tissues in the box and stuffed them inside, yelling she needs bigger bouncing boobs. Another girl looked almost teary eyed, and yelp her guts out. One girl slapped her hairstylist's hand out of her way and took the wig off.

But she was different. She knows what she's doing and calmly so, she paced up to her position, 2 minutes earlier. 

She knows she will win the plastic crown and no one could ever takeaway that dream of hers. 

If doesn't win, she'll grab it out of the girl's head.

People were already leaving when the awarding started. The pageant took almost 2 boring hours of brainless and spineless activities. But our winner remained focused all through.

Top 5 finalists are lined up onstage, and people are already shouting bad words "Get on with it!" and so it went on. We see our winner pinned to be contestant number 5, and that was not different from any pigs numbered in the slaughterhouse. 

The emcee held the envelope on his hands, holding his freakishly goofed hair on place, and holding the mic on the other. "Our Miss blah blah blah, will be taking home a rice cooker! Oh what an awful price! And a microwave oven on the behalf of our kind Mayor! And oh! She will be taking home with her... 3 coupon courtesy of Ritchie's Dinner! Ha. Ha. Ha." and as if all of that mattered to them. All they want is the crown. The crown that need not remind you, is just made out of plastic.

"And now, our Miss blah blah blah... is," no one in the audience is more excited than our winner."Contestant number... 1!" everyone yelped and acted surprised.

"Congratulations!"

Our supposed winner is now a loser and losing is something she can't live. And just like what I said, if doesn't win she's going to take home the crown anyways.

People were applauding for the long end of the show, as Miss number 1 is being given the usual flowers and sash and then the crown. As it was about to placed on her, our winner grabs it and places it on her head instead. People leaving from the crowd were stopped, and Miss number 1 was numbing in shock.

Our winner got up to the microphone as she stiffly held the crown on her head.

"Why did she win?!" she started as people quickly snapped on their phones for a Facebook live video rant. "Clearly I'm the best here!" she casts a deranged look at Miss number 1 who was being given the rice cooker and microwave that was promised. "I am the most beautiful than these hella of a kind bimbos!" one from the girls shouted back Excuse me! "This crown is my dream and how dare of all you take that away from me! I want this crown so I guess I'll have to work my way though roughly getting it!"

"We'll make you a new crown!" the organizer said at the bottom of the stage, with his headset on his ear and clip board on his hand. People froze at the sight of our winner. Her head dress was falling from the crown, and her make up was breaking out. 

"No!" she shouted back. "I want this and only this!" she placed it tightly on her head. "I deserved this! This isn't Miss Universe! This is just a peep show for us worthless women who dream to be exposed! To be talked about! To gather the world at their palm to dream bigger! This is not for us but it has to be taken from! I want this and only this!" People were snapping pictures of her beige dress almost hanging revealing she's not wearing a bra underneath.

"This is mine!" she continued. "Because I took it!" she slammed the microphone off the stage that thudded the feedback loud on the speakers, and made people cover their ears shut. When the feedback receded, our winner was slumped down the stairs with her head bleeding by the crown. The crown was supposed to be plastic, was made of glass. The frustrated beauty queen, our winner slipped and fell on the hemline of her dress, and cracked her head up, piercing it with the stiffened glass crown.

People came closer to snap a picture and video to post it online.