Standard disclaimer applies.
You are very pretty.
This, you probably know already. The looks people give you are solid proofs to the fact. Why, just a few minutes ago you caught two men giving you flirty looks. Flattering, isn't it? Disgusting. You grimace at the thought.
A face like yours that could launch a thousand ships is bound to make heads turn. That, you did. Your skin is as pale and milky as Galatea's; your nose is well-defined; your lips are red and supple, but your eyes…
Your eyes are dark as the night sky, but lacked the life and luster of the stars.
You are unhappy, but can you do anything about it?
"Are you okay?" one day, she says to you. Her eyes are shining with mirth. She seems oblivious to how you tensed uncomfortably under her cheery gaze, or how your lips thinned into a fine line at the mere mention of your well-being, or how your eyes flashed green with envy at her sunny disposition. You chuckle bitterly at the irony.
While many people admired your singular beauty and unparalleled talents, what you desired most was the companionship of ordinary people. One of the perks that come with your fame in the show business industry is that making friends came as a breeze. Or more accurately, superficial friends. It's hard to tell the difference nowadays. Who needs them, anyway?
Friends are for cowards who are not confident of their own abilities. They rely on people without realizing that they might stab you in the back. How foolish your father is, to ingrain such nonsense on a pretty girl's head. Who is more foolish, you wonder. Father, who convinced you of these notions without afterthoughts, or you, who religiously adhered to his words, viewing people with mistrust and a cynical eye?
Your thoughts cling to the girl before you, wondering if you would have been as lively as she was if only you weren't a coward. The true coward, you reminded yourself wryly. Perhaps you could have been happy. Perhaps you would've had friends. Perhaps you wouldn't feel so alone.
You blankly nod at her inquiry, masking your distress with a fake smile. You wave your hand dismissively, offering a nonchalant "fine" at her thoughtful face. She seems convinced enough.
You were always the good actress.
A/N: Another Masako fic? :P
If you haven't noticed yet, I never mentioned any names. Although it was implied to be Masako, the second unnamed female character is yours to identify.