ORIGINS: Look at the eyes of the older brother that’s holding a peacock in his hands in the original series. They made us think of a peacock’s tail, with strawberries instead of evil eyes. And since shoes were the motif of that series, we thought that it would be nice to carry on the tradition.
It’s a curse. I have seen too much, and now I can’t make myself believe in beauty anymore. I see no other choice. I have to replace my eyes. Closing those peacocks’ tails didn’t work. I still remember more than my heart could take. It wasn’t a fair fight. I only had one little heart, whereas they had more than a dozen evil eyes. But that ends today. I will replace those eyes with strawberries; with little heart-shaped red lies. And I will bleed; I will find a way to feel again. Something other than this ugliness-induced apathy.
My mistake was making eye contact with that peacock while I was still a child. While I was a little strawberry. All heart. I belong to that peacock now. I always will. And he knows it. I experienced beauty while I was growing up. While I still believed in forevers. Before my bones trapped my soul, laying down the law. The parts of me that will never change. I don’t know how to live without beauty in my life. My bones aren’t hollow. I need beauty more than I need air. I was easy prey. The peacock didn’t even have to spread his fan-like tail. He already owned my heart. And I wish I had met ugliness instead. I wish ugliness had been the first creature I had laid eyes on. Because then I wouldn’t have grown attached to it.
My peacock doesn’t need a myriad of evil eyes; his tail is already a field of strawberries. Cut in half. Just like my heart. There is no better curse. I don’t remember a time when I felt whole. They made excuses. First they told me that it was because I hadn’t met my other half yet. Then they backtracked, and told me that it was because I hadn’t grown into myself yet. But it was too late. Driven by my childlike impatience, I had already devoured more than a dozen beautiful hearts, looking for the one that should have matched mine. Red had already become a tasteless thing in my mouth. And I don’t think they can blame me for not feeling like growing up.
I don’t know why they say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, when beauty is something you fall in love with. I know that it doesn’t last; that images don’t linger in the eyes, because there is always something shinier ready to take their place. But I don’t want to waste the word love like that. I like the aftertaste of heart-shaped strawberries in my mouth. It lasts longer than an image. And when I remember those strawberries, they never fail to water my mouth. Making it easier to swallow beautiful lies, like the existence of faithfulness.