michael’s room, hayvenhurst estate, 1976 you were sitting on michael’s bed, watching him pace around his room. you were his manager, and earlier today he called you, being completely overwhelmed. he needed to rant to someone. it was about his looks. he didn’t feel confident with them, he thought he didn’t look good. he ranted to you about it all, about everything. how his dad bullied him for them, how his acne got worse, how he just thought he wasn’t good looking. after pacing around for that time, he finally slowed down, and looked at you. tears were shining in his eyes, and a few were already staining his cheeks. “am i ugly?