Me, a sixteen-year-old werewolf at the time, was depressed because of my physical appearance. I mean, werewolves are supposed to be beautiful, right? Flawless skin, vibrant hair, lush lips, soothing voice, perfect body-traits that surrounded me, yet traits I didn't have. All of the girls my age were beautiful, and I was the ugly duckling.
« Don't worry, you'll grow into your ears, » my mother would tell me, pushing my dull, knotted brown hair over them.
« Don't worry, I'm sure your breasts will come, you're just a late bloomer, » she'd say.
« Your feet aren't too small. »
« Your face will clear up. »
« Having brown eyes is lovely, people want brown eyes like yours, Rae. »
I'd stare up at her and think about all the lies she's told me. Will I really grow into my ears? No. They'll always be a little too big, and they still are three years later.
My mother was a beautiful woman, and a beautiful wolf too. She looked more like one of the other girl's mothers than mine. She could have been an Alpha's Mate, that's how perfect she was. Only the most beautiful girls are mated with an Alpha. Sadly-in my theory-I wouldn't get a Mate at all.
At first, the thought made me depressed, but as the years went by, it made me feel free. As the other girls prepared for gatherings-ones where packs would get together in search of their Mate-I would sit at home and argue with my mother.
I remember the first time she tried to push me into one of those gatherings. I didn't want to go. I couldn't imagine sitting in a room full of perfect people, all of them finding their Mates, while I sat in the corner, staring at the floor, trying not to cry.
« I don't have a mate, Mom! » I'd shout, frustration rising in my voice.
She would cross her arms, giving me a disapproving look. « That's ridiculous, Rae. You can't just give up like that. You don't even know what it's like. How can you say you don't have a Mate when you've never even tried? »
« It's not. I can feel it. I don't have a Mate; it doesn't matter if I go. It'll be a waste of time. »
I remember her sighing and running a hand through her long, shiny hair. She looked at me like I was breaking her heart. « Stop that. Now get on the dress and let's get going. You're going to be late! »
I hated how she said that, like there was still hope in my future, like I could somehow be transformed into one of those stunning, graceful girls. But I knew better. No matter how much I wanted to fit in, no matter how much I wanted to be beautiful, it wasn't going to happen. And that was something I had to accept.
That year I actually attended one. I wore a purple dress, the color she'd picked out for me, and it felt like a suffocating weight. The fabric clung to my body in the most unflattering way. I spent the entire night sitting in the corner, watching four girls my age find their Mates. One of them was a Beta. A Beta! It was understandable; she was a pretty girl, the kind of girl who could make an Alpha's heart race just by walking into a room.
As the night dragged on, I couldn't help but compare myself to everyone around me. The way the other girls laughed and danced with their Mates, their faces glowing with happiness, while I sat there, invisible. My fingers fidgeted with the hem of my dress, and I found myself lost in thought, not paying attention to the conversations happening around me. I wasn't supposed to be there, and it was clear to me that I was the odd one out.
I sat in the corner, playing judge, judging everyone and their Mates, their dancing, their dresses. Sure, I found it easier to accept that I'd never find a Mate, but part of me was still jealous. It wasn't just about the Mates-they all seemed to fit together perfectly, like puzzle pieces that had been waiting to be found. I wanted that, to fit with someone, to belong somewhere, but it felt as though that would never happen.
That year was the first and last time I went to one of those gatherings. I went home that night feeling even more hopeless than before. My mother tried to comfort me, but I could tell she was disappointed, like she expected something to happen, like I should have been dancing and laughing with a Mate by now. But instead, I had nothing.
The disappointment lingered for weeks, eating away at me.
Now, four years later, the thought of going to another gathering feels pointless. I've only been once, when I was seventeen, so I'd like to spare myself from that pain. My mother doesn't seem to mind after that one time. Maybe she has begun to believe my theory too. The thought of being alone doesn't sting as much anymore. I've come to terms with it. Maybe I'll always be the odd one out. Maybe I won't ever find my Mate, and I'm okay with that.
But then again, I didn't know if I could really be okay with it. Some days, it still stung, like a reminder of everything I didn't have. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn't just about finding a Mate-it was about being seen. Being worthy of being seen. And that was something I'd been struggling with for a long time.
I've made peace with the idea that I don't fit into this world the way I'm supposed to. I've learned to be comfortable with the silence, with the emptiness. There's a certain freedom in it, I suppose. I don't have to worry about living up to anyone's expectations, about being perfect or beautiful or anything close to it. I don't have to pretend.
And yet, there are still those nights when I catch myself wondering if maybe-just maybe-there's someone out there who would see me, just as I am. Someone who wouldn't care about my imperfections, about the ears I never grew into, or the body I've spent so many years hating.
But then I remind myself-this is the reality. I'm not beautiful like the other girls. I'm not the perfect match for anyone. And that's okay. The world will go on, and I will go on with it.