I am not pretty.
Beauty doesn't lie within my genes.
My murky locks frame my hollow cheeks. Giving off the illusion that my true sex is male. I apologize Mother, I wasn't born the man you wanted me to be.
My eyes gleam dim as the night sky during the solar eclipse deprived of stars. Without hope, without dreams, there's no reason why they should glisten.
I catch no one's fancy. I am dull. I am pale. The smell of death shadows my every movement.
My only companion is 'fear'. I use fear to keep my zodiac in line. I use fear to express my love.
Of course my darling animals are too blind to see that.
They're too distracted by Miss Tohru Honda. With her long flowing chocolate hair, sapphire eyes that shames the Pacific Ocean and a smile that drives away any cloudy rainstorms.
Absolutely disgusting.
She's got my precious rat and stupid feline under her spell. They truly believe she loves them. That maybe one day she'll save them from their curse.
So idiotic.
Can't they see that this curse bonds this family together? Bonds them to me?
I am not pretty.
But Tohru Honda is.
My reflection is my greatest foe. It reveal the bags laying beneath my eyes. My bony body is exposed. My sickly color consumes the entire mirror. Only I can destroy this monster. With a blow from my knuckles, the mirror breaks, and the monster is dead. Only the reflection from the beast can still be seen, but my blood trickling down quickly covers those shattered pieces.
The infuriating sound of my hitched breathing is then triggered. Who could stand to be around someone who can't even breathe in air right?
Does Tohru Honda have this problem? Or does everything she do seem perfect? Does her chest rise and fall like an angel from God? Does her eye-lashes flutter like a butterfly's wings?
Does her tears drown her glossy skin like mines?
A God isn't supposed to shed any tears. We're expected to be strong, composed, and elegant.
But humans cry. Am I not considered human? Is it so wrong for a God to feel? To have insecurities?
I am not pretty.
But everyone thinks Tohru Honda is.
If I looked like Tohru Honda, would my pets return my love?
If my hair streamed down to my hips, if my iris shined like stars, would they love me the way they loved her?
If I dressed up in fluffy dresses, would they acknowledge me?
Why wasn't I born, pretty? Why was I born in this dying vessel?
Why couldn't I have been born like Tohru Honda? In home full of love, with friends that care for my wellbeing, and a family they would always stay by my side.
I am not pretty.
And I never will be.