Life doesn’t just leave marks in the lines on our faces—it shows up in the expressions we carry, the colors we choose, the way we wear ourselves in the world. The more we live fully, the more alive we appear. But what happens when we leave parts of ourselves locked away, untouched and unlived?
As the philosopher Irvin Yalom puts it, “The more unlived your life, the greater your death anxiety.” We often think fear of aging is about wrinkles or graying hair, but it’s deeper than that. It’s about the parts of our lives that go unexpressed, the passions we’ve ignored, and the desires we’ve silenced.
Makeup isn’t about covering up—it’s about revealing. Applying it is an act of bringing the lived parts of you to the surface. Beauty, in this sense, isn’t about hiding; it’s about letting the life you’ve lived shine through.
In art, we don’t paint over the canvas just to fill the blankness; we create because there’s something inside that needs to come out. Your face is no different. When your life remains unlived, it shows—not in age, but in the blank space behind your reflection.
Makeup can’t fill that void on its own. It’s not about how much you wear or how perfect it looks. It’s about how much of yourself you’ve allowed into the world, how much of your life shows through.
The real fear isn’t aging—it’s the unlived life. It’s the parts of you left untouched, uncolored, unexpressed. Beauty and art are both vessels—but the question is, what are you pouring into them?
The more unlived your life, the greater your death anxiety. It’s not about fearing the lines on your face—it’s about fearing the life that never shows up in your reflection.