Venus Rouge

Veronica Verne

💐~~Interlude~~💐
Shirogane Chiaki

Gestaltzerfall - (German for "shape decomposition") refers to a type of visual agnosia and is a psychological phenomenon where delays in recognition are observed when a complex shape is stared at for a while as the shape seems to decompose into its constituting parts.

I looked it up, and it was a very accurate description of what I was currently going through right then.

"Beautiful."

"Pretty."

"Gorgeous."

"Attractive."

I'd heard these words so often that it started to take me a while to remember what they meant and recognize them as compliments.

I'd been told these words all my life, and by the time I was in high school it had become sort of a curse... because nothing good ever followed it.

It was like nothing I could do could outshine the face I was born with. Both my parents were undoubtedly good looking people so the chances of me inheriting an attractive face were through the roof...

It made me miserable.

It didn't matter that I was good at soccer, I was pushed into the drama or home economics club anyway.

It didn't matter that I was class rep because once I start talking to the class it all goes over their heads.

When the name "Shirogane Chiaki" came up in a conversation, there was seldom any mention of my grades, my opinions or even my interests.

When some brave soul detached themself from the crowd of sparkly eyed onlookers and professed their love, meeker than a mouse, I would ask, "What do you like about me?" In return...

"You're beautiful."

"You're really pretty."

"You're gorgeous."

"You're very attractive. "

I always hear the same answer without fail. There was nothing left but depression.

Those words formed a thick, suffocating barrier between me and everybody else.

'Is that all I'm good for?'

No.

'Is that all I am?'

No.

'Is this all they see in me?'

.... Yes.

"It's okay, being the Student Council president isn't hard at all! If it's Shirogane-sama I'm sure they'd all listen!"

It didn't even matter that I had the grades to deserve the position. They all just expect me to stand there and look pretty.

It's not that I hate my face.

God, no.

I was still proud of this face because this was the face I shared with my mother, and, in my eyes, my Mama was godly. Mama was always my role model.

Even though I was more than sure that my mama was prettier than me, I was also sure that no one with half a brain could overlook her accomplishments.

My mother climbed to the top of the business world at a young age and stayed there with her arms akimbo and her stance unshakable.

She built an empire up from the dirt with her own two hands. I was sure there was nothing she didn't know, nothing she couldn't do. She had a backbone of reinforced steel, I tell you, and an infectious confidence present in everything she did that was plain to see.