Lovely

  The last time I felt beautiful, before, was when I was twenty years old. That was when that mugger cornered me in the alley, armed with the horrible attitude of a desperate man and a bottle of what the police later told me was homemade acid. He got all of twenty-five dollars, but I lost so much more than that - my left pinky, although my face suffered the brunt of it.

I got a prosthetic pinky, but - well, my face was harder to fix. And even when it was fixed, after a haze of surgeries, consultations, and more surgeries - it still didn't look right. It looked like - I was some horrible photocopy, slightly to the left of my own self.

I lived like this for a year or two. I suppose - I don't know if anyone would want to hear about it. I withdrew from everyone. It was partially their doing, of course. Sideways glances, quiet whispered conversations about how I had changed. I guess they thought the acid had wrecked my ears, too. And eventually, I took the hint. I stopped going.

And I was alone. And I told myself that it was okay. It was okay I worked from home, and had everything delivered, and threw out all the mirrors in my home. It was okay that I wore sunglasses over my mask so no one would even see my eyes. The sunglasses were prescription, too - I wouldn't trust contacts touching my eyes, much less anything else.

It was... a few months ago I first met them. I'm a clothes designer - not for any big brands, but smaller businesses will buy my designs for clothes and make them. My designs are more alternative - all ruffles and odd patterns, but people seem to love them. One of the only things I leave my new house for is to sit in a field that connects to my backyard. It's quiet there - no one to bother me, and I get all my best ideas there. It's like standing in the shower, without all the cold water. 

That's when I first saw it - glowing a soft green, flittering in the grass. It was small - not a luna moth, certainly. Small and soft-looking and oh so delicate. I had kneeled down next to it. For a few minutes, there was nothing except the moth and me. It was a fairy, an angel, a perfection in winged form. I could have stayed there forever, simply staring.

I remember I didn't feel scared when it fluttered to my face. It just - felt right. Felt for the first time in a long, long time - like I was meant to be there. So I didn't flinch, didn't spit, didn't splutter as it crawled into my mouth and down my throat. 

And it told me to breathe. And I did. 

I felt... warmer, somehow. Lighter. Better. 

I walked home, and I felt like I was floating.

I didn't dream, when I slept that night... I don't remember dreaming at all, after that. But I slept plenty. I slept all the time. I started setting more alarms, and... I'd sleep right through them. I missed calls. That was okay. My clients had flexible deadlines as was. They didn't mind. So I slept more, and ate less, and got much, much thinner. I remember being alarmed, by this. I ended up getting protein supplements to help.

The doctors couldn't have been that worried for me. I was too ugly for that. But between you and me, I think they'd be scared of me now, too. I'm too pretty. They made me pretty. I'm warm, and light, and beautiful . 

All stringy now, but beautiful. Fluttery, but beautiful.

I am lovely.

And they live in me. That's what we all are. Warm, soft, wheezing homes for them. They love so softly.

And they'll make you lovely too.

Breathe deep.