She stood there, staring at herself in the mirror; Her mouth moved, but nothing came out.
She was a failure at the thing she did best.
She began to sing, but the sound of her voice grated against her ears, yet she still sang. Not for herself, but for her fans, the people who loved to hear her voice, the ones who cheered her on.
She shook her head.
How could anyone enjoy listening to a voice like hers, it was ugly and grating.
In a world of beauty, it was the one thing that was truly ugly.
*
She walked out on stage and greeted her fans, with a smile on her face but a frown in her heart.
“I’m a liar,” she thought to herself, “I’m deceiving them all.”
As she began to sing, the crowd roared, and she pitied them.
How could anyone like this voice?
How can they love me so much?
*
She sat on the couch staring at the television, blankly taking in everything that passed over the screen.
All the hate in the world, even it was beautiful in some way.
Her voice was not, she was just a liar, a malevolent trickster.
She was just some nobody who had – by the grace of god – gotten lucky.
The newscaster on the screen – he was actually somewhat attractive – began to talk about her latest album and how big a hit it was, so she turned off the TV.
She sat up and walked to the recording room.
She thought to herself.
“Maybe this time I’ll sing something beautiful.”
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