Come break me down (bury me, bury me).

If I could look like anyone in the world, I would choose to look like Jared Leto from his 30 Seconds to Mars fashion phase. I would have the straight black emo cut, most likely the thick guyliner. My skin would be pale and perfect and my eyes would (of course) stay the amazing blue that they currently are. I don’t know why I wish that I looked like Jared Leto of all people; he just seems like aesthetic perfection for me. I want to look like him more than I want to look like myself. Not that I’m a bad looking person, really. Many people say that I have a pretty face if nothing else. But, fuck, I wonder sometimes why the fates decided to work against me and provide me with this body, this face that looks nothing like it should.

I don’t need Jared Leto’s talent, I don’t need his life. I don’t need to be the lead singer in a band or have my name in a bunch of movies with costars like Brad Pitt and Winona Ryder. Hell, I don’t even need his body; I will accept being a little bit doughy if I could just have that face. But then, what kind of face would Jared Leto have, you ask? Eh, not my problem. It’s my face now.

Wouldn’t it be awesome if I could just walk up to Jared Leto and take his face off like a mask and just replace my own?

“I’m sorry, Mr Leto. This face is no longer yours. It now belongs to a silly little college student named Ty. Please and thank you.”

And it would take, like, a second. Maybe two. POP. Off comes his face POP off comes mine and CLICK now I look like Jared Leto. His hair would even be mine, I could take off the curly wig and slap on a nice emo-doo. I would be hot.

My eyes would shine out behind seven layers of dark guyliner and I would be able to look in the mirror and (hopefully) be satisfied with the man that stood in front of it.