Attractiveness: The very thing he treasured more than anything.

It was what Glisten based basically his entire life and personality around. Even before reaching what he believed to be ultimate perfection, there was not a single thing above beauty, in terms of what was the most important thing that could exist in anyone's lives.

If he didn't have beauty, he was nothing. But he had nothing to worry about. He was the only being in existence with the most beauty. Thinner sides, cut-down shoulders, more eyes than you would want to count - what's better than that?

So why was he feeling like this?

Everyone knew about Glisten's bad days. Even though he did already spend most of his time in his room, the other gods could hear the crashing of objects. The cursing and the sobbing. It was the reason why Tisha'd tried to enter a few times, only to be held back by others.

Today was one of those days. The corner of his vanity mirror (not his head, his actual physical mirror) was cracked, and the makeup brushes on his desk were scattered about haphazardly. He was slumped in his seat, holding his head in his top hands. He was hiccupping wildly, with tears streaming down his face and onto the countless letters he'd written to himself.

He slammed his bottom two hands on the desk and looked up through blurrier vision than normal. He could see himself, could see the perfect being that he'd spent hours and hours of his life preening over looking right back at him in his reflection, but he couldn't help the disgust roiling in him at the sight.

"FUCK!"

He shoved himself back from the mirror angrily and stomped over to his bed, all but collapsing onto the covers. He grabbed a pillow in each set of arms and held them tightly against his body, curling into them and continuing to sob. He didn't even care about the fact that he was ruining his makeup.

Why couldn't he be perfect? He worked so hard, constantly changing, hurting, ripping. Why wasn't he what he envisioned?

Why was Glisten...this?