I am Harmonia, goddess of peace, and I am perhaps the most important god on Olympus. In times of worry and strife, I am there. In times of war and anger, I am there. And most of all, in times of happiness and tranquil, I am there. I radiate happiness, so it seems. To an outsider, I am a light, a candle in the dark. To an insider, I am a friend, an escape from the real world.
When I look in the mirror, what do you think I see? Beauty in every inch of my body? Long black hair and radiant blue eyes? A tall, athletic build and a thin, curvy stature? A face of flawless porcelain and a mouth sweet red candy? A glinting diamond wedding ring on my left hand?
I am a mistake, a product of an affair, and it is ever present in my being. The gods punished my parents for their mistakes. Beauty runs deep in my veins, bright on my face, and inside my soul, though I don't love it like my mother. Peace is my being, harmony in my name but my father was conceived in war. I am a misfit, a disgrace, says my dad.
At the young age of eighteen, I was married off to a man I didn't love. Yes he was strong and powerful, yes he was rich and handsome, but I didn't love him. I bore him six children, grew to like him very much, but it was never love. He grew to be a great friend, yes, but never a lover. The gods expected so much of us, to bear strong children, to be together for all our lives, and I think my dear Cadmus wanted that too, but I never did. I couldn't bear to cause him stress, so I told him I loved him every day, but I never meant it.
I can't cause others pain, it is in my being. My job is to make all around me happy, and that stress is apparent in my appearance. My eyes don't shine like they did when I was young; beneath my flawless face is an ominous cloud. And when I look in the mirror, it is all I can see. I see worry in every pore, every strand, every cell. I see fighting in every inch of my body as my two halves battle. I see the looks of disapproval my father gives me and the heavy sobs that wrack my small body every time I look back at my past.
My weak half looks at life as if seeing it through a spyglass, at a distance, taking in only the outline of the situation. I see the love I have surrounding me, the peace inside my very being, and it looks beautiful. My other half is crying every minute of my life. My father won't look at me, my mother is too obsessed with the mirror, and I am a product of a mistake. My two halves battle, one half clinging to perfection, my other half willing to let it all go, and I am confused.
I am Harmonia, goddess of peace, and I am at war with myself.