My reflection doesn’t tell my story yet I still feel as though it defines me

 

When I look,

 

 I see my flaws

 

I see mistakes

 

I see problems

 

Looking at others I see so much beauty

 

They have the perfect clothes

 

Perfect hair

 

Perfect face

 

Perfect body

 

Maybe it’s just a facade but it seems so real

 

Pushed on me is the perfect image of  what I should look like

 

What I should appear as 

 

“You need to be slim”

 

“You need to have a perfect smile”

 

“You should wear this”

 

“You should do this”

 

So many things I’d like to change about myself because I want to be acceptable

 

I want to fit into the mold 

 

I want to feel pretty

 

I want to be looked at as something, someone valuable

 

Imagination  runs wild with possibilities if my image was just altered. 

 

Or changed.

 

Completely. 

 

My nose looks weird- change that

 

My eyes - change that

 

My face - change that

 

My arms

 

My legs

 

My chest

 

My body

 

Change that.

 

Looking into the mirror

 

I slowly see myself disappear.

 

Where am I?

 

I didn’t ask for this!

 

With “fixing” myself, I became nothing, because I changed  everything that made me, me. 

 

Looking at nothing, I see now that I was something. 

 

I was someone.

 

Someone  who laughed

 

Someone  who smiled

 

Someone  who danced 

 

Someone  who cared

 

Someone  who held

 

Someone  who loved

 

I want HER back

 

Gazing up 

 

I see myself

 

My hair all messy

 

Tears running down my cheeks

 

Nose all red

 

My body slumped 

 

But it's me.

 

Nothing changed, nothing less

 

But seeing myself 

 

I see someone  new

 

I see someone who isn’t perfect

 

But I see someone  that is just as important and special as anyone else

 

Someone  who matters.