Personal Identity: A Short Story

I appear like an average simpleton: I do not look like a pulchritudinous goddess from the heavens, nor am I an unsightly abomination. My small, round eyes look like dark pits, but they glisten like amber gemstones in the sunlight. My black, thick-rimmed glasses cover up my unkempt, bushy eyebrows as well as a quarter of my face. My chipmunk cheeks as well as my broad jaw and square face makes my face appear as wide as a barn door. My hair appears as dark as the night sky; but, when the light shines on it, my long locks glow as russet as the sunset. My skin looks like the color of a coffee stain that would never quite come off the white tablecloth with golden-honey undertones.
One can say that I am vertically challenged as I am not taller than a toadstool. I stand at five feet and one inch tall, after all. My abdomen sticks out from my waistline like a hill on a flat plain. I am obviously not the fittest person in the world. Additionally, I simply clad in a T-shirt and jeans, nothing too special in what I normally dress in.
My kindness, my generosity, my diligence-- these traits ultimately make me the person that I am. I respect people’s thoughts and opinions, even if I do not agree with them. I always try to lighten someone’s day when they feel dejected. On the other hand, I am incredibly sarcastic and cynical around my
I adhere to established rules and guidelines regardless of cost, reporting my own mistakes, and telling the truth, even when the consequences for doing so could be disastrous. I always answer honestly, even if it seems more logical to lie in certain situations. I value honesty more than emotional considerations, and my blunt approach leaves others with the false impression that I am cold, or even robotic. I tend to struggle when it comes to properly expressing emotions outwardly, but the suggestion that I do not feel or, worse, not possess any personality at all, deeply hurts