1. An overbite. You are yet to grow into your fangs. The clay of your face is still too freshly pinched - time is needed for it to set, to marble. They do not sit right in your mouth. Too hung and so very thick for your loosely aimed tongue. You will struggle to sustain the features of ancient celestials in the beginning; high cheekbones, tight flesh, paused lips; you will have none being still but a cub. Thus your fangs hang like a deadman on his noose. Snug to the very cut of your corner-lips, they hook and pierce your cheeks. That is no virgin-blush that you wear, only pietistic blood.
2. Fernweh. The German word for “Wanderlust”. New to this life, you will seek the ends of this earth and the next and become addicted. With thigh-bones of solid, tithonian stone, you will take on foot to travel to distant countries rich in scree; you will carve your name in this mother-rock like all your brothers and sisters before you. There will be a taste of Malibu and honeycomb and sex of the queer nature forever slicking the roof of your mouth. Before your divine-awakening, you would have never known the flavour of such sins. But now they are haunting, and you can not remember a time without their phantom-hold. To be a young god, is to have desire drip from out of bitten fingertips and glass eyes, your desires for the unknown and wanderlust will manifest into something of great and ever-need. The humans drink water, while you drink the secrets out of forgotten realms. Heimweh, another word belonging to the German tongue, said to be “homesick”, something only lesser begins succumb to. Young god’s root themselves from one corner of the dimension to the other: it is a new way of life, there is no place for home nor sickness here.
3. Ear aches. A young god’s ears will constantly sting from the prayers of the faithful and sinners alike. Scripture is somewhat of a burden to those just becoming of their deific status. Each one written, each one sung, and it will be as if a beehive or two were left to form in the canal of your ears. Too young and cub-like to have so many crying and damned believers just yet. The bees are set loose, and their savage-buzz never rest. Time will take you on as a student one day and teach you how, with either honey or vinegar, the buzzing can be ignored. One day. But for now, hymns will send you mad and have you clawing at the throats of your beloved disciples. A warning to you, young god: break the skin too often of these adherents of yours and with each generation gone, you will begin to fear an era of children raised in the art of deicide.