This isn’t an aesthetic phase and it’s not me trying to be different. It’s a stable reaction I’ve had for years. Oval shapes, pink colors, shiny surfaces — and sweet perfumes — all trigger the same feeling in me: irritation. Not hatred. Not fear. Just a persistent sense that something doesn’t belong.
Ovals Feel Structurally Weak
Ovals don’t have clear boundaries. No start, no end, no edge where something decisively stops. I naturally gravitate toward edges, angles, clear constraints, and things that can be mentally segmented. Ovals feel evasive, like they’re trying to be pleasant instead of precise. It’s not about beauty. It’s about clarity.
Pink Feels Like Emotional Noise
Pink isn’t neutral anymore. It comes loaded with assumptions: forced friendliness, softened seriousness, fake warmth, marketing psychology. When something that’s supposed to be competent or serious is wrapped in pink, it feels dishonest. I’m not against softness. I’m against performing softness.
Shiny Surfaces Are Visual Spam
Shine exists to pull attention, not to add information. Chrome, gloss, sparkle — they all say the same thing: “look at me”, regardless of whether there’s anything worth seeing. My brain reads unnecessary shine as noise, something that hijacks focus instead of earning it.
Sweet Perfumes Are the Same Problem, Just Through Smell
Sweet perfumes absolutely belong on this list. Vanilla, candy-like scents, sugary florals — they don’t just exist quietly, they push themselves into the space. They create forced intimacy, manufactured warmth, emotional presence without consent. Sweet scents feel either infantilizing or seductive by default, and neither is neutral. Unlike visuals, smell can’t be ignored; it lingers, sticks, and occupies headspace. Sweet perfume is basically pink, gloss, and rounded edges, but for the nose.
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