a/n: i wrote this on my phone.

no, seriously.

are you guys proud? idek how many words it is but it's a new writing style and i like it a lot actually

it took effort, eww

have fun reading it, and if you like it[or not] please don't be ashamed to drop a review. i love you guys!

"Now son, I'm only telling you this because sometimes, life can do terrible things."

James knows, has known since he was young: life is easy if you're pretty. He also knew society had a very volatile definition of the word— you could have a perfect face and a perfect body but they could still call you ugly on the inside. Beauty was a wholesome thing, James learned, it was something that was natural and artificial, purposeful or accidental. He knew beauty wasn't always a petite frame and long eyelashes, that in order to be considered truly beautiful, you had to be pretty on the inside, too.

And that's why James knew he was ugly. It was a quality that encompassed his very being, something that consumed his personality and reflected on his features. His hazel eyes and perfectly quaffed hair may as well have been made of dirt, the way people acted towards him. James knew he wasn't beautiful because he was ugly on the inside and it reflected on the outside.

(Not to say he was pretty on the outside, either.)

Since James was a kid, with knees scarred white from biking accidents and friendly scuffles gone rough, he had been obsessed with his looks. He would go to work with his mother on the weekends, walked around the labs and watched in curious awe as cosmetics were tested. Beautiful models with blonde hair, flawless skin and bodies lean as a willow tree were decorated with emerald dust; powdered gems of every kind and colour and God, did they look amazing.

"You can't be a Diamond if you don't shine like one, James." His mother would tell him. "We are the epitome of beauty. Us Diamonds, we light up the world with our presence." Her voice is warm-cold affirmation and he never questioned her once, because it was his mom and she was always right.

And she was.

Over time, James understood what it meant to be pretty. He brushed his hair twice a day, showered once— only used his mom's company's products. He sat straight, never chewed with his mouth full, was a true gentleman. But still, over time, his overcritical mom—overcritical society— picked at his confidence, bit by bit, until…

"James, stop wearing your hair like that, you look like an animal."
"Ey! Diamond! Like the new haircut! Did your mom pick it for you?"
"James, this is just a simple quadratic equation. Are you really too dense to figure it out?"
(That one had really struck a nerve. It wasn't that he was dense, his brain was just occupied with ugly, ugly.)
"James, you are not wearing guyliner to the hockey game. They already think you're gay enough, okay?"
"Hey, fag! You're pretty good at doing makeup— I almost can't tell how ugly you are!"

…He was the only one left who believed in himself.

The comments were fine at first, just a joke, right? He was carbon. He could take it. But they got worse, worse, worse, slicing at him, black and blue, black and blue, driving him to insanity. Black and blue, that's all he was. A shadow.

It wasn't like James never tried. He tried so hard to be perfect, to be pretty. But it only seemed like the harder he tried, the more it slipped from his grasp. Over time, he learned his strive was absolutely futile, as every attempt he made was shot completely to hell. Sure, he was talented, he had looks, he had a near-perfect GPA and an IQ of 140.

(That was nothing, though, right?)

He was average. Logan had an IQ of 130, but he had a 4.0 average and straight As. So he was already down in the smart department. He obviously was charming, but he was a hopeless, antisocial outcast when compared to Carlos, who was practically a social phoenix. And of course, he was absolutely incompetent when it came to athletics and talent. Kendall was captain of the hockey team— and he'd gotten them a fast pass to Los Angeles. James had ridden his way to the big times on the shoulders of someone else's blinding talent, and all he'd had to show for 16 years of tribulations was a huge sign marked "I.O.U.".

He wasn't the smartest, the most loveable, the most talented. Hell, he had watched helplessly as Kendall, Carlos and Logan stole away everything he'd ever wanted. They stripped him of all that he had, that he needed, except one thing: himself.

(and that was all he was ever going to have.)

a/n: and there you have it.

please tell me what you think, no ones opinion is more important to me than yours, okay? you matter, and i want to know what's going through your mind, what went through your mind, when you read this little ficlet.

peace out, i love you guys.