After that initial wonder of the gift of home, and the finalization of my shell collection on a small shelf meant for personal belongings, sorted in size, largest to small, an unfortunate sunlight had dawned on me one day as to the circumstances so far of my life. At this time, there hadn't been much occurances in Sugarteara, other than the usual of childish tinkerings of what could barely be called crime. Left a lot of time to the self, the mind, the unfortunate circumstances.
Most people had always had some space to themselves, and I was only learning the ropes now, the ropes of independancy, being your own cookie outside of the ward of the city. Of course, one must not dwell on such things, but the familiar feeling in the chest the same or worse as the one felt when stared at -- the sudden self awareness of just how strange one looked on the outside. Still in the room, the first room I've ever had to myself, the home had roommates and being woken up by those and hey let's look at yourself in the mirror one more time.
What I saw turned that usual floppy chest feeling into an overwhelming urge to vomit, not because I was any more disgusting than usual, but the usual was about as disgusting and freakish as that usual. Oh, and picking out a small leftover bit of some seaweed out of my horns. That had already grown into the strangest of problems, and even a fish, too, had once nested itself within the horns, which now seemed to be sprouting a new growth from the inner part, rounding out, looked like a kindergardener's attempt at drawing a heart so far. A toothy blank look. Large-set shoulders. Eegh. I'm disgusting. I want to rid myself of that feeling. So othering, so othering. I was the freak of man, and all of those thoughts at once, circumstance, form, disgust, the way others viewed one when one was not like others, circumstances to ruin, need to brush my hair, regret, I want to be like anyone else right now. I want to rid myself of this feeling.