Ringo Starr☆

The handsome Beatle? No. The manly Beatle? No. The quiet Beatle? No. Ringo was mostly known as the cute Beatle, but a new nickname his fans had given him was really getting to him: the ugly Beatle. His big nose, his droopy eyes, his chubby legs, etc. It was all an insult. Of course, in the studio, he was still playing well, and everything seemed normal. He was Ringo. Who would expect anything serious or worrying to happen to him? Medical problems aside. He felt ignored, but that was to be expected from his friends. Now, he was lying in bed, wanting anything but to get up and face the day. Such a silly nickname shouldn't have affected him so much, but now he saw his image in a completely different light. He wasn't as big and burly as John, or as wise and muscular as George, or even as handsome as Paul. They all had their pedestals, and he felt like he'd been left on the ground. Like he'd always been relegated to the background and never given the same recognition as the others. He hadn't thought about this so much before. Richard pulled the covers tighter around him, letting out a long, deep sigh. He didn't have to be in the studio today. But if he wasn't doing that, what was he doing? Especially with this new wave of depression.