Ugly
Vanity is supposed to be a sin, but flipping through a magazine for no other reason than needing to do something Light snorts at such an idea. If vanity is such a sin, why do they revel in it so? Why must ever girl be skinny, yet shapely and their skin utterly flawless? Why must men be toned and handsome, charming at least in a physical aspect. Nobody cares for personalities anymore, if their nasty or bitterly ugly inside it matters little. At least if their pretty it makes everything better, petty comments aside. Light finishes flipping through the magazine utterly unimpressed and put it back on the shelf where he looks for something truly of interest.
All there is though is gossip magazines, soap operas, and somewhere more towards the back porno. It is all utterly mind numbing and useless to him. Light leaves the store without purchasing a thing and walks back home. Posters announce the latest skin products, the latest must have in the front windows of the shop Light only glances at them for a moment then looks away. He brushes away a strand of hair that is bothering him, the only hair out of place on his perfect little head.
Light wonders why he bothers playing the perfect, he doesn't really find anything about himself overtly attractive. Yes, Light can admit that he is handsome but beyond that Light can't see much in himself. He is charming yes, but after a while his personality becomes stale. Light may have always been the one to break it off with his girlfriends but he already knows what they would say if he had stuck around.
"Your so cold," they would have whined. Light wouldn't have cared, and even when thinking about it still really didn't. Dating was more of a have to do than anything else, something to at least appear socially normal. It mattered little.
Many things had ceased to really matter long ago, eventually all Light's world consisted of was the monotonous routine of life and the monochrome of the everyday. Light sighed and finished his walk home, approaching the front door and wondering why anything really mattered anymore. All he did was move forward, for what reason he wasn't sure anymore but he would just continue forward anyways.
Light would continue forward till the day he finally just broke down and the all the pain of having existed so emptily just spilled out. All the little nasty bits, the pieces of gravel and glass he has shoved to the back of his mind and doesn't bother to think about.
Some day it will all come spilling out, ugly and putrid. For now it just sits there, quietly bubbling and shifting, waiting for its day.
Waiting for a little black note book to fall from the sky and set it free.
A/N: Drabble, end.