Chapter 1 - Decision

p, li { white-space: pre-wrap; }That night was the night I decided to change. But let me take a step back and explain.
Ever since I can remember, I always had a pretty unique ability: I can change my looks however I want. I can change my face, I can become slimmer or fatter at will, I can shape every inch of me to be exactly I want it to be.
When I was a little boy I was too scared to try and use this ability, but sometimes I would look in a mirror and see a slightly different face, or look down to see hands not quite like mine. I would get really scared, but closing my eyes and wishing everything beck to normal always worked.
While growing up, however, I seemd to gain better control over my ability. Now and then I began to experiment, at home, locked in the bathroom, and try to look like one of my friends, or some person I saw on TV. But it never was more than a weird game to me.
You see, I've always been kind of an outsider: I never was the popular kid, and I didn't want to. So I never used my abilities to look different to other poeple, because I was satisfied with my real looks. Of course, I never had any "real'' looks: changing back never felt any different, it was just one of my many possible looks.
I never seemed to get fatter, nor lose weight, probably because my body did not evolve on its own: I was rebuilding it from scratch every day of my life. I didn't even grow on my own, rather, when I noticed I was starting to get smaller, compared to my classmates, I would have a "growth spurt'' and catch up with them in a few weeks.
No one ever seemd to notice, and I never spoke about this power to anyone, just living my life like anyone, until now.
A couple months ago, I finally started university. I'm going for a degree in mathematics, if you're wondering. Anyway, I met a girl there. Well, I didn't actually met her, rather I noticed her, and I thought she had to be the most beautiful thing on earth.
Yes, I know it sounds stupid, I know most of you probably had the same feeling a dozen times. Well, I can only say that I still think she's the most beautiful thing on earth, and it's been a couple months since.
I never spoke to her, and I had to ask some of my friends for her name: Michela. Sometimes I would look in her direction, during lessons, or just pass by her in the corridors. That time I saw her leaving -- I swear I wasn't stalking her! -- and she waved at me, I felt like the world would end. Sure, there wasn't a lot of us freshmen, and sure, we all greeted each other, but this was different, right?
Of course, a few minutes later I stopped daydreaming and realized it wasn't different at all, but I was still happy: her gesture was just a small thing, but it was something anyway.
From that day on, I thought about not so accidentally asking her something, or just dropping in during a conversation, or something, but I couldn't do it. She was so beatiful, so radiant that I was afraid of damping her light with my only presence. I couldn't bear the thought of her spending her time with someone like me. I thought I was too vulgar, too ugly, not wonderful enough to get to know her.
So that night, I made my choice to become wonderful enough. To transmutate myself into a thing of beauty, while trying hard to be the best person I can, trying to be worthy of her.
So I tried to picture myself the very image of beauty, but the only thing I could think of was her. She was like a dream: her soft, straight hair, black as the midnight sky, her round cheeks and small nose perfectly placed on her long, slender face, her smiling brown eyes, her modest lips and her perfect skin. I sat on my bed for an hour, trying to remember something, someone I thought was beautiful before seeing her, but nothing came to mind.
Then I tried with real people: I tried to imagine her walking hand in hand with my most handsome friends, even actors or celebrities, but every single one seemed ugly, rough and vulgar beside her. Any man I pictured her with looked just like a wolf chasing a sheep. She was too pure, too soft and delicate for any of them to touch.
So I changed strategy again. I had to think of something different from her, so I had to focus on her qualities. She was strong, and proud. She was very sure of herself, and her every move showed that. She easily stood out in any crowd. So I had to go for a more reserved look: a person with more common features, although it had to be just as wonderful.
I closed my eyes, and suddenly I saw a girl in front of me. I could look at her as if she really were in front of me, even if she was just a creation of my mind. She looked very sweet and modest, her light brown hair tied behind her neck in a ponytail, her eyes looking down modestly. She was kinda short and slim, but her hands were very slender and pretty. Her face was quite round, making her look even more simple and straightforward.
Well, she's beatiful -- I thought -- but not as beautiful as Michela. Still, I'm making progress.
I tried to picture a male equivalent of that girl, but she would not get out of my mind. Her image stood still, right in front of my closed eyes.

After a while, I began to see this girl walking hand in hand with Michela, talking with her, laughing with her. They looked good for each other, somewhat complementing each other.
I took a break, laying back on the bed. I stood there, with my eyes closed, and soon I started seeing the girl again. She was dancing before me, slowly making her way to me. Before she could reach me, I fell asleep.