Imagine Ed accidentally reading your journal and finding out how much you dislike yourself.
“This very thing you were born with pleases us all. It’s even capable of making men fall, while only experienced by few it’s treasured by all. What am I?”
You blinked at Ed, shifting your feet uncomfortable, “Sorry, Ed, I’m not really in the mood for riddles-”
You ducked your head, a light blush tinting your cheeks. “I appreciate the sentiment, Ed, but I’m not beautiful.”
“Yes, you are,” Ed interrupted, his smile vanishing as he repeated the words. “Yes, you are, [f/n].”
You pressed your lips together, “Ed-”
“I found your journal.”
Ed licked his lips, clearly unsure of how to continue. Eventually, he mumbled, “I didn’t realize what it was at first. It was not my intention to violate your privacy but…” He paused and ducked his head, “Do you really dislike yourself that much, [f/n]?”
You clenched your jaw, “No one was supposed to read that,” you whispered at last.
Ed hesitantly reached forwards, his fingers touching yours. “I offer my sincerest apologies. But, [f/n], you are not the things you wrote. You are not too loud. You do not talk too much. I thoroughly enjoy listening to you. I do not find your interests random or stupid. In my eyes, you are absolutely perfect. I wish there was a way for you to see that in regards to yourself.”
Dear Diary… Penguin told me he teaches people “real life.” He said, real life sucks losers dry. You want to fuck with the eagles, you have to learn to fly. I said, so, you teach people how to spread their wings and fly? He said, yes. I said, you’re beautiful.‘