Recently I’ve realized that things out of place are the subject, and maybe even a catalyst, of my emotions. There are few things I find funnier than animals with their heads swapped with another species, or jokes where a polar bear is in the Pantanal and you grab it by the ears and ask: “what are you doing here?!”

It’s not about looking good; it’s about being beautiful, and lately I’ve struggled with the latter. I don’t actually feel like a polar bear swimming with the alligators, and I don’t feel like soybeans inside my plastic globe. I feel pretentious, and I feel like a fraud. And I haven’t tried to be better; I’m too comfortable to do that.

But then again, how do I place myself outside of where I should be? Patrick Bateman knows little to nothing about true beauty.