Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful

One of the things that terrifies me the most is being horribly physically disfigured. My personality sucks and I’m scared of my own shadow, so normally I just skate by on my looks for the first few interactions until people realize my autism is actually off the charts.
And god forbid I actually give them access to my Instagram.
Actually that probably won’t matter because most people will see a wall of text and be like, “fuck that, I’m not reading that shit.”
I’m kind of half joking here, but I really would not want to have any horrible accidents happen to me where my arm gets blown off or my face gets all fucked up.
It’s funny how when I joined the army I never really thought about that shit. I mean you kind of always have it as an option in the back of your head as something that MIGHT happen. But you never think it could happen to you. It’s always someone else.
Fortunately the only part of my body that was disfigured in the army was my spirit, and normally people can’t see that. So we’re good there.
And it’s not like I work around corrosive acid or knife jugglers these days.
But still, life is a fucking random ass series of events. And you never know when you’ll be the one to get into the car accident or have that cinder block fall on your head from the roof of an adjacent apartment building.
You could do everything right in life, and just because you happen to be living next to an Arab village where they shoot guns into the air during a wedding, you catch a bullet to the dome when you least expect it.
Boom, lights out.

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