Not Welcome

About
A darkened wall, unadorned yet restless, upon which I inscribe the truths I dare not utter aloud—while I move among others cloaked in a gentler, counterfeit self.

Ugly
I wander this world as though unseen in the most intimate sense—devoid not merely of notice, but of desire. It is a peculiar torment, to exist and yet feel oneself erased from the realm of admiration, as though fashioned without the grace that invites affection. I am left to wonder why mankind must be so beholden to the tyranny of appearances, weighing worth upon the fragile scale of beauty.

How often have I endured the careless cruelty of observation—my teeth, imperfectly set; my face, too broad for favor; my nose, unrefined and unkindly shaped. These judgments, once spoken in passing, have taken root within me. They echo still, as though the corridors of my mind were built to preserve their harsh refrain.

I long for silence—not the silence of absence, but of mercy. That the voices of ridicule might at last grow weary, and relinquish their hold upon my spirit.