Look pretty

Be pretty

That’s the only thing she has to do, they said.

Hell, she wasn’t even just pretty.

She was beautiful.

Breathtaking.

Gorgeous.

A goddess. That was what they called her.

Pretty. That was all she’d ever be.

I want to paint my face.

And pretend that I am someone else.

It was one of those countless nights during her trainee days when she felt inadequate. She watched from the side as some of the other girls received advance voice lessons, while the others received advance dance lessons. Im Yoona was never delusional. She knew her voice wasn’t golden. But she could sing. She knew she didn’t have the most powerful moves whenever she danced. But she’d like to think she was at least good at it.

She’d aired her concerns. But people merely smiled at her and said, You’re pretty. You’ll be the face of the group. That’s your role.

They were supposed to know better than her. So she showed that she was just letting it be. But that didn’t stop her from running all the way to the top floor of the building when training was over for the day, when no one would notice her slip away. She cried and cried when she got there. Never enough. No, she was never going to be enough. They were never going to give her a chance.

A beautiful face. Never more than that.

“Why are you crying?”

She was nearly wheezing in her distress and frustration when she heard that calm, albeit just a tad bit slightly flabbergasted voice. Yoona turned, all runny nose, puffy red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, toward the direction of the voice. Finding a tall, raven haired, lanky man with lips that seemed like god had cut out with a blade, long and thin. Shim Changmin.

“Nothing.” She turned away, quickly wiping the all visible traces of her tears away. It was a reflex action. No one could see her cry. It was a show of weakness and weakness was unattractive.

He stared at her for a while before joining her by the edge of the balcony, leaning his arms against the railing. He kept his eyes on the vast expanse of the sky; baby blue today with puffy, round cotton clouds. “You know, you’re ugly when you cry.”

His words surprised her. But what surprised her even more was that she giggled, until the giggle turned into a full blown laugh.

Being ugly never made her feel so good.

Sometimes I get so fed up

I don’t even want to look at myself

She debuted and became the most beautiful (arguably, as far as she was concerned) in the industry.

Compliments weren’t so bad, especially when they came from people who genuinely loved, cared and admired from you. They told her she looked like an angel. You’re so, so, so pretty, unnie! I’m jealous. Nah, it was just the makeup. She’s so flawless! So gorgeous! Thank you, but no one’s ever perfect.

Sometimes she found the compliments to be highfaluting and just a tad exaggerated. But she appreciated them nonetheless. She was grateful and worked har