Mingus is Depressing

I know I will never beautiful. Not like Mingus. Even surrounded by light, even captured with the most poise I can summon I cannot compete with him.

You cannot look at him and not love him. Regard his face. Do you see how with him the light surrounds and catches his fur in glinting perfection? How sweet his eyes, how sad and yet how soft. He is the kind of creature one reaches for without thinking, hoping to cradle him, singing sweetly.

Here he is with a picture of a kitten who looks just like him. There are businesses devoted to taking pictures of cats who look like him.

He could be in calendars, on coffee mugs; he could have a television show and porcelain figurines. And people like him as soon as they see him, love him after seconds in his company. It seems we all prefer that which is beautiful, and his is the kind of beauty written about in novels.

No one writes about me.