I live in a world known not by most. A world full of beauty and a world of wonder. A world where you can be who you are, no judgment. A world of starry nights like Van Gogh. A world of gorgeous storms like a film. A world where I always felt I had no place.
From a young age, it always seemed like the people around me despised me, simply for
existing. The spiteful, red, molten glares I received. Every day I felt like it might be better if I NEVER existed to begin with. I would go to my school and gaze out the window as I saw the other students running through the water grass and rye. So carefree.
So unlike me.
In the classroom while I sat out, there was always one other student who also sat near me who never ventured outside to join the others. One day, he finally broke his silent stare to ask me a question.
"Why don't you ever join them?"
I stared at him, hesitant to answer. After pondering the question for a few seconds, I
formulated a response that I felt fit the question and answered it without revealing too much about myself.
"I think it might be the same reason you don't go outside either, Jon."
As Jon looked at me, he smiled. No one had ever smiled at me before, not even my parents.
"Well, I guess that makes us partners, Kara."
"Partners?"
"Yep. The two ugliest people in this world."
I paused. The gull of this kid– to call me ugly. Admittedly, it was true. I was ugly child. Most people would question the use of "ugly" when referring to a child, but let me assure you, I was definitely ugly. I had a crooked smile that showed nothing resembling actual happiness. Bulgy eyes with missing teeth. My face was riddled with freckles, ugly red ones that
contrasted my brown hair that was unkempt and hung far below my waist. Jon was also a rather ugly child. Thin framed round glasses with a crack on the right lens, brown freckles with dirt on his clothes, he looked as though he had rolled in mud before school. I later learned that that was true– he actually found enjoyment in rolling in mud like a pig.
"Okay, Piggy."
"If you are going to call me Piggy, then it's only fair I can call you something equally
ugly."
Jon grabbed his face, making an ugly stupid, "thinking face" and then pretended like a light bulb lit above his head.
"Toothless!"
"Toothless?"
"You're missing one of your front teeth, so your name has to be Toothless!"
"Okay, piggy."
That was how an unlikely friendship was created between the two ugliest people on the planet.
As the weeks passed, Piggy and I had grown rather close, spending time in and out of
school together and venturing around the small town we lived in. We would watch the river run as the koi swam through it, and lizards crawled around the rocks on the shore. Some days, we would simply spend it reading books inside of the cloudlands. The cloudlands are a place that gained its name from the children of this land a few decades prior to the one I was born in. They are a vast stretch of foggy cloudlike formations that touch the ground reflecting the colorful sky.
The "clouds" show the pink and blue hues of the sky as well as create a thick air that hides
people from one another if they have enough distance between them. For me and Piggy, that distance was discovered to be about 10 feet. After that 10 feet were spread between us, we would sit down on the ground where the fog turned to mist.
Hours would pass before Piggy, or I would say a word. Usually by the time that the sky looked like a painting, we would break our silence and talk to one another.
"Hey Piggy."
"Yeah Toothless?"
"Do you ever wonder what it would be like to not exist?"
He looked at me with that stupid, ugly thinking face. I was able to see him, as the fog and mist had started to clear, and the land was only slightly smokey as the ground started to collect dew from the nearby springs and water current rushing in the distance.
"You could say that. I often wonder what life would be like if I wasn't ugly. That's an awfully complex question to ask an elementary school student though."
"It's a complex question, yes, but it does not require a complex answer Piggy."
"I suppose that is true, isn't it."
"Of course, it's true. I said it is."
I often put on an air of overconfidence around Piggy so that he didn't step out of line and
start making fun of me. While I was smart, I was never smarter than him, so assuming a position of power over him allowed me to maintain a sense of strength that otherwise was left in his hands.
"I have a question for you, Toothless."
"What is it, Piggy?"
"When we are at school... Why do you let the other girls pick on you?"
"Why let them pick on me? What would I be able to do against them? I'm not strong. I'm
skinny like a skeleton. Everything they say is true, I am the ugliest girl in the class. I'm not going to fight the truth."
He paused and crawled over toward me on all fours just like a piggy.
"Kara just because something is true does not make it right."
"That's a redundant statement Jon."
I felt puzzled as what he said made complete sense to me, but I had already doubled
down and was unable to take back my statement.
"It's not redundant, Kara. There may be a truth that all criminals should be in jail, but
that's not right. Some people just need to grow and become better people. The truth is a blanket that is only used when it is cold."
"I suppose that makes a bit of sense, but your original statement was still redundant."
"Perhaps that is how you perceived it."
"Perhaps."
Later in my life, at least a year or two later toward the end of elementary school, my
teacher proposed a question to the class.
"Class, if you were to pick two people to be held back, who would you pick?"
It was a question that was simple enough but still was quite out of place to ask a group of
6th graders. 12 years old or 120 years old, deciding someone's fate should be a hard decision.
Yet, my class came to an almost instant unanimous vote.
"Kara and Jon!" Some kid from the corner of the class yelled out.
"Yeah! Kara and Jon, they've gotta go!" Said another popular kid.
The rest of the class muttered something of the same statement.
"So, class, you are willing to leave Kara and Jon behind in 6th grade, if it means you all
can move on to 7th grade?"
They all nodded in agreement.
"Okay, say Kara and Jon refused to be held back, who then?"
That question took much longer to answer and after about three minutes of thinking,
some smarty pants in the front of the class raised his hand.
"Excuse me, would it be an option to not hold anyone back?"
"No," Our teacher explained, "You must eliminate two people before being able to move on to the 7th grade."
Another pause took the class when another smarty pants– a little denser but a smarty
pants nonetheless– asked a question to the teacher as well.
"I'm sorry, but what is the point of this question? The hypothetical?"
"That's simple. The point of the question is to question your morality. I wanted to see if
the answer to this question would reflect the behavior I have examined over the course of this year. That behavior being the constant bullying of Kara and Jon."
I caught a few dirty glares from people across the room, who must've assumed I told the
teacher on them.
"Don't get me wrong. Kara and Jon never once reported any of you, whether it be a
matter of pride, or hope it may end, they both preserved you from punishment. But just because I was not told, does not mean, I was not aware. As I said, I examined this behavior for the whole year. So, class, I want to ask you, why is it that you all chose to bully Kara and Jon."
While I am sure that my teacher back then did have good intentions and possibly was
thinking that her intervention would stop the bullying, it did nothing other than give a public place for Piggy and I to be bashed. This action of hers did far more harm than good.
"Because... Because they are ugly!" Some snob said.
"Yeah! Because they are ugly!" Some brown noser backed him up.
"Okay class, but what does the term 'ugly' really mean? How do you measure if something is ugly or beautiful?" The teacher asked.
"That's simple!" The snob quickly butted in, "You can tell if something's ugly if you
want to throw up when you look at it. Something beautiful is something like the night sky or Princess Catherine..."
Princess Catherine was the daughter of the ruler of the land we lived in. She was a
gorgeous high school aged girl who was next in line to hold the throne of our Island. She was commonly looked at as the pinnacle of beauty and grace, and even as a girl, I recognized how someone only a few years older than me could be so highly liked and adored among men of all ages. Beyond her endless wealth and status, she had endless beauty and a body that could only be
wished for by most of the women of our Island. She set the mood and trends for women of all ages. I had only seen her once in person, 3 years after the current events I am telling.
"Okay, so let's say Princess Catherine is the example of beauty, why would Kara be
called ugly compared to her?"
The snob grins as he looks at me.
"She has a stupid face that makes me want to throw up." He laughs along with a few of
his lackeys.
I scoff at him and act like I was unbothered by his remark but inside, I was truly hurt by
his words. For a 12-year-old girl, constant belittling and insults can be incredibly emotionally scarring.
"Okay. So, if that is true, why do we as a society treat 'ugly' things as bad and 'beautiful' things as good?"
I raised my hand for the first time ever.
"Yes, Kara? You may speak."
"Because you're all afraid. You're cowardly. You are afraid of things unknown to you.
None of you know what it's like to be ugly, and none of you ever will. People are naturally afraid of the unknown. In this case though, it's just a matter of looks, rather than discovery of a new continent or species."
The entire class fell silent. It was as though they were bewildered or shocked at what I
had said, as if it was a profound statement.
Nervously the teacher laughed and then started to talk.
"O-okay... anyone else have any input on that?"
The class remained silent.
"Okay, then this discussion is over. I believe both sides gave a fair argument."
Later in my adolescence, further a few years into middle school, I started to change. I no
longer felt a desire to look at the cloudlands with Piggy, and I no longer had a desire to keep existing. I did not wish to die, just to not exist. To simply cease being visible, to stop thinking, and to stop being thought about.
"Piggy, do you think there is a reason we were born this way?"
"What way, Toothless? Ugly?"
"Yes. Do you think this was divine punishment for something we did in our past lives?"
"I wouldn't say that" He paused and then resumed, "I would more say that it was something we did in our current lives that made us continue to exist as ugly rather than changing our appearances to appear attractive or not ugly."
"I see your point, Piggy. In theory, we would be able to stop being ugly if we tried, yes?"
"Yes, that would be the claim I am making, Toothless."
I thought about that a lot. I often thought about a lot of things– the world, the people
around me, etc.– but mostly, I thought about life if I wasn't ugly. Would I be happy? Would I
have friends? Unanswerable questions that still consumed my mind every second of the day like a fat kid in a bakery with an unlimited budget. I would walk around town thinking, "Man, look at them." These thoughts I had that never existed when I was younger.
As I grew, I learned one terrible horrific truth– I was envious. I was envious of others. And not just their looks, or their money. I envied their attitude. I envied their happiness. I envied the way that they could spend every day of their lives walking around being happy, smiling, without being berated. They didn't
need a "reason" to be happy, they just were.
They just were.
I often saw myself wondering why it was that such a vibrant brilliant world filled with color and life looked so dull to me. I hated the fact that I never saw what everyone else did. I
hated the fact I didn't see the color or the clear skies because the older I got, that raincloud only got bigger. I noticed it in Piggy too. He seemed to start to lose the glint that used to light up his eyes. He didn't smile. He didn't laugh.
"I don't think I enjoy reading anymore." He told me once.
"Why is that?"
"I simply find no pleasure in indulging a world that isn't our own. Do you not feel that way as well?" He asked somewhat, sounding like he was genuinely confused.
"Was that not the reason you started reading?"
"What do you mean?"
"Wasn't the entire reason you started reading because you wanted to escape to a world that was not ours? A world in which we were not there?"
"I..." He paused and looked around the almost fluorescent sky as if waiting for the gods
themselves to give him an answer. After a while he resumed, "I believe it was because I was initially looking for a place to hide, but the more books I read– the more stories I learned about – the more I learned I only saw myself. I saw the parts of myself that I hated. Amplified. Turned up to 11. My place of refuge had turned into a prison. I was... I was trapped... alone."
For the first time since I met him in elementary school, Jon showed me something. He showed me that he was still a child. He may not have talked like one. He may not have acted like one. But the way he spoke in that moment– on that day. I could only see a scared and empty little boy. He no longer felt like the middle schooler I spent every day with. He was someone I could
connect with on a level I'd barely connected with myself on.
"Jon... do you ever look around you and see gray... like you're in a monochromatic rainstorm?"
"Yeah... I do."
"I want to bring back the color. Will you help me?"
"Yeah… yeah, I'll help you."
From that day on, Jon and I had a mission: Bring back the color. Day after day, we
traversed the intense lands of our country, going deep into the mountains, rainforests, highlands, and even finding places unmarked on the maps. As we scribbled our findings on a worn piece of paper, we named them based on their surroundings but making it clear that they were discovered by us. Places like "Pigs foot trail" and "Tooths slide" became places marked on our maps and were places we visited often. Through middle school and into our early years of High School, this was how we spent almost every day. School, search, sleep. A cycle.
One day, Piggy came up to me to announce something:
"Toothless! I have a proposition for a quest!" He exclaimed.
"A quest you say?" I questioned.
"Yes! A quest!" He exclaimed again.
"I'm intrigued." He caught my attention rather easily.
"Well," He leaned over my desk as we were on our lunch break, and I still only had him
as a friend to eat with, "I would like to start this off by saying, this could be dangerous."
"When has that ever stopped us?"
"Never! Okay so the quest we will be doing is going to a beach."
"The beach?" I was utterly shocked.
"Not the beach. A beach. This place had yet to be touched by anyone. The sand will be
unbroken and the water untouched. It will be 100% pure. A perfect beach for the two most
imperfect people in the world." He made a smug face after he finished like he said something profound or life changing.
I smirked back his way.
"Okay, sure. Let's say I agree to go to this beach. How will we get there? There is only
one beach near us, and that one couldn't be further than untouched. People are there every day."
"Like I said, it's a beach. We are going to have to ride our bikes in the direction of it until
we find it. I only know the direction, but not how far or where it will be. I was told by an old
man in the village about this place and he said even he hasn't been there. He told me 1 direction: 'Go forth to true north'."
"Are you sure this guy wasn't messing with you?"
"Of course, I'm sure!"
"Well, you sure are ecstatic about this."
"Of course, I am! This is the first time I am going to be able to go to the beach."
We both paused and seemed to think back to our past. It was true, while I did say people
were at the beach every day, Piggy and I were the exceptions. No one wanted us at the beach.
Like I said, no one wanted us anywhere. We were too ugly to have around.
"I guess that may be nice... should we wear swimsuits?"
"I don't own one."
"Neither do I..."
And so, we went to the market and bought swimsuits. A two piece for me, and swim trunks for Piggy.
While at the market, a woman asked us, "A weekend planned for you two?" We both nodded in agreement, and she rang up our swimsuits after exchanging currency.
At the end of the week, we got onto our bikes, grabbed a compass, and started to pedal
directly to true north. We set out first thing in the morning before the sun had even risen so that we could be there as early as possible. We pedaled for hours before we finally arrived on the white sand beach. It was stunning. Crystal clear water with soft waves and a clean smell. The sky reflected off of the ocean making it shimmer and glow more than the waters back home do. Across the horizon were assorted trees and fruit trees along with what seemed to be a hut.
As we approached the hut, we got close to each other, preparing for some angry old man
to come swinging at us with a jungle knife. Instead, we were met by an old woman in her late 90's sitting in a wooden rocking chair made of bamboo and vines. Her hut was made of the same tree that was outside on the beach. A shiny, iridescent glow emanated from its surface. The wood had clearly been polished but by what? I wondered.
"Do come in dears."
The old woman raised her hand slightly from her chair motioning us in.
Aside from her glimmering walls and jungle-esque chair, the woman's every pore seeped
with the image of a long-gone beauty. What in the past may have been a catch among catches, had shriveled up and become recluse on this beach. Her eyes were almost closed, squinting almost. But to think back, it may have been that her eyes always looked like that. She had silver hair, not from old age, but from that being her natural hair color. She had yellowed skin, clearly Sun-kissed and dried out from the summer. She reminded me of a painting I saw in a textbook once in class. She looked like the embodiment of wisdom.
"Oh, great elder, we are sorry to intrude." Jon broke the silence.
"No, no. The pleasure is all mine sweetie. You're the first visitors I've had in..." She
paused and started to count on her fingers slowly before giving up and continuing. "You're the
first visitors I've had in 10 years."
"10 years!?" I exclaimed uncharacteristically.
"Why, yes dear. It doesn't seem to be that many people venture over to this part of the island."
"So then, why do you live here?" Jon asked.
"I have to." The lady said. It was a puzzling way of answering a question as it gave us no
insight on any actual motivation for living there.
"What do you mean you 'have to'?" I asked.
"This is my duty. My life's duty."
"What is it you do here?" Jon asked, seeming intrigued.
"I give people beauty."
My eyes widened as I took in the weight of the statement she had said.
"H-How do you do that?!" Piggy and I both asked excitedly.
"You must bathe in the water of beauty." She motioned toward the water outside of her
window.
"So, if we go into that water, will it make us beautiful?"
"Yes dear. That is what the water does."
Piggy and I both got up taking off our clothes revealing the swimsuits we had on
underneath and ran down the shore into the water. We held our heads under the water and
washed our hair with it. We scrubbed our faces with it and rubbed it into our skin... but still... no change. We were still the same people we were when we got in.
"Hey lady! What's the big deal?" Jon yelled.
"What do you mean?" She responded, watching us from the shore holding herself up with a cane.
"We still look the same! That water did nothing." He continued.
"Did it do nothing? Look around."
The world that was once saturated and ugly had returned to color. I took in the even brighter colors of the water and sand. I looked at my reflection in the water and for the first time in my life I smiled. Jon saw my smile and smiled to himself. We both first chuckled which then moved on to laughter. We smiled and laughed for a while. Long enough that the sky had gone dark.
"Do you know why the fountain didn't change anything?" The lady asked us.
"Because it didn't work?" I asked.
"Because you are already beautiful and perfect, just the way you are."
I looked at her as I thought about what she said. Before I knew it tears were streaming
down the sides of my cheeks.
"W-What did you say? Could you repeat that??" I begged.
"I said, because you are beautiful and perfect just the way you are."
I bawled and didn't notice it at first, but so was Piggy.
We spent the night on that beach with the old lady and left early in the morning after the
sun rose so we could say goodbye to her before we left. As we pedaled home, I had the old lady's words repeat in my head, and I felt my conscious getting lighter. For one reason or another, hearing those words for the first time changed my life. I looked at everything in full color. I stopped shying away from opportunities because I was afraid of rejection. And the weirdest thing happened, I was no longer called ugly.
One day Jon came up to me, much later into high school than the trip to the beat and he
said something strange.
"You know Toothless, you look really pretty when you smile."
It left an odd sensation in my chest. I felt incredibly happy and thanked him with a smile.
"You're not much of a piggy anymore, Piggy."
He laughed and said, "Yeah... I guess I'm not."
Later we went to the Cloudlands one last time before graduation and instead of the usual
10 feet, we sat side to side. We watched the beautiful clouds of smoke and fog move through the air as they slowly dissipated and left us with nothing but a clear view of the sky.
I felt I learned something that day at the beach. It didn't matter what I looked like, I was always going to be ugly to people if I acted ugly. If I continued to act like a loner, avoiding making friends, avoiding participation in class, not allowing others to spend time with me in my free time. All of that was things that in the long run were making my core blacker and blacker. Grosser and grosser. Uglier and uglier. My core was so rotten that eventually all people saw was a rotting black pile of mush that moved through life alone with some little Piggy.
People often say that life is something not to be toyed with, that you cannot change
someone based on what you say, but I would like to disagree. The world in which you come from can mold and change who you are. Without where you came from, you never will know where you are going and eventually where you end up. So, while I stand here, in this thick mist, I want to tell you something.
I live in a world known not by most. A world full of beauty and a world of wonder. A world where you can be who you are, no judgment. A world of starry nights like Van Gogh. A world of gorgeous storms like a film. A world where I always felt I had no place. But that world had a place for me. It had a place where I belonged, and a place where others like me existed.
From a young age, it always seemed like the people around me despised me, simply for existing.
The spiteful, red, molten glares I received. Every day I felt like it might be better if I NEVER existed to begin with. I would go to my school and gaze out the window as I saw the other students running through the water grass and rye. So carefree. So, unlike me. But I think that in reality, it was me. People didn't hate me. I hated myself, and I projected that self-hatred onto everyone else so it seemed like I wasn't the problem. So let me adjust that statement one more time.
I live in a world known not by most. A world full of beauty and a world of wonder. A world where you can be who you are, no judgment. A world of starry nights like Van Gogh. A world of gorgeous storms like a film. A world of people and places that love and live and are breathing and exist. I live in a world that wants me to live. I live amongst the mist.