Short story
I sighed. I was in my bedroom. The only place I could call home. I was on my bed, scribbling on a piece of paper. As my hand circled and twirled, the pencil followed its command. I imagined I was drawing a masterpiece, like the Mona Lisa. But when I looked at it, it was just scribbles.
I looked at my cat, who sat in the corner staring at me with her judgemental eyes. I crinkled the paper and threw it at her.
"Meow!" she screeched, jumping in the air. She hissed and sat back down.
"Shut up stupid animal." I mumbled. She snickered and looked to the window, her eyes softening. If she knew I couldn't tell.
I went to my window and opened it. I was immediately met by a rock that scratched my cheek and a wave of cheers by the one who threw it and his friends. "Thanks Brock!" I shouted.
"Good morning, ugly!" I would have shut my window, but I let them continue to relieve their stress on me. If not now, it would be worse later.
"You're so ugly they need to lock you in a basement!" They didn't understand. I was born this way. My mom didn't drink the sacred wine before she had me.
"You're uglier than a mud fence!" Brock was the only one who insulted. His friends had barely enough brain cells to cheer.
They left after a while, leaving me to my thoughts and the thing I was always left with. How did it get away with it? It had blemishes like me, imperfections, but it was so beautiful. So peaceful. I imagined reaching out. Touching it. I wanted to feel the imperfections, to prove they were real. I adored her. My beautiful, glorious moon. I paid so much attention to her. I wished to be looked at, like how I looked at the moon.
I mean why did I have a bump in the middle on my face with two holes. I sometimes even breathed through it. Though i didn't know why. And all my teeth were flat like they had been filed down from their normal sharpness. But the color of my skin, that tan-pale color, even frightened my neighbors. Sometimes they called me a word i couldn't understand.
Human.