His Own Face

When he woke up and looked in the mirror, he realized the plastic surgeon had done something terrible to his face. 
He couldn't deny he had been ugly before, but now his face looked like some kind of animal inexpertly sewn into fresh human skin. It contorted and bulged passively like a jellyfish, never quite symmetrical. He felt bile rising in his throat when he looked too long.
At the time, he reasoned there was no reason to do anything drastic. In hindsight, he wished he had slammed his face into the mirror before anyone else could see.
Because the worst aspect of his new face was everyone else's adoration. He finally got the raise he'd always wanted. People listened, captivated, when he talked. When he used his newfound money to hire a therapist, in an honest attempt to deal with the problem, the therapist seemed convinced it was some kind of reaction to others looking at his face, as if his face wasn't the problem.
When he stood in front of the mirror to start cutting through his nose and cheeks, he was afraid of losing everything he'd gained. And he lost many things: his job, the company of many of his fair-weather friends, the trust of his closer friends and loved ones. But he was no longer disgusted upon looking in the mirror every morning. The face staring back at him was bloody and mutilated, but it was his.
Category:Mental Illness
Category:Micropasta