i’m not social, but i need security
i’m not vocal, but i speak for the majority
i’m not local, but i’m surrounded by authority
i’m not focal, but i’m a priority
i’m not vocal, but i speak for the minority
Do you know who this is?
I looked in the mirror and I was scared.
Great! It was a very ugly scene!
The man in the mirror was so scared!
His eyes were red and his lips were red.
He was in a sad state. It was empty.
He was so weak! Do you know who this is?
It was me!
ME! ME! ME! ME! ME!
i am another teen
not some kind of queen.
i have many flaws
no one's perfect.
theres always conflict
whether i want it or not.
there is always a lot
causing my rage
but stay say because of my age
i should be happy
but there's more to see
than who a person appears to be
because that's not me
What I see when I look in the mirror is myself. I see myself staring into the abyss filled space of my reflection trying to find myself. Trying to recapture my old self. Because when I look in the mirror, I see someone else. Not me. I look to find what happened to my old self so I can bring her back. Bring back the sweet, innocent, perfect little girl I used to be. Because the self I am when I look into the mirror ; is someone trying to be someone else. And the old self is screaming from somewhere in the abyss of the reflection. Screaming to get out & get back into the old self they once knew.
"It's become painfully obvious. I can deny it no longer! I am small."
My friend laughs when I finish my joke, slapping her knee. I've always wondered what she can see when she looks at me. She easily towers over me (most people do), so she can probably see me at an angle I've never seen myself at before. How not fat I am, even though I think I am but I am comparing myself to how wide the sink is and she is looking at how little of the bench we are sitting on takes up and how small my knees and thighs are compared to hers. She can see my eyes at an angle I can't since I have to look through such dirty glasses, and if my glasses are off, I can't see anything. She sees my skin shade and not the white lines snaking between skin cells that I can since I'm so close to my arms.
She knows that I do not like my physical appearance as do many others. if my mother is lucky when I'm recording videos for her, I will move so she can see a tift of my long-untwisted black hair and maybe my scabbed forehead or the rims of my black glasses. If my friend is lucky, he'll see my long white fingernails pointing out random shit in my room as the phone is always facign the ceiling since I wasn't wearing appropriate clothes that night. Even when I was, I was afraid to show my face when I was singing because he could see how crooked my teeth are when I smile and that my face is dotted with long gone pimple scars. It doesn't seem pretty to me, though I still would have blushed if he said it was.
I have my dad's skin and his face, as he loves to point out when we would go through the photo album as a family (without my brother since he's at that age wehre he stays in his room all the time and is told to wash his hands all the time). My dad would marvel at how tall I've gotten (though I am STILL SHORT) since he can remember when I would wander around the house and could easily walk under the table and get lost behind the couch. We would laugh, eliciting a deep annoyed sigh from my dog, who is trying to sleep on my thighs (which he loves).
After too long, he'll stretch, pressing little dtrong paws into my legs and sit up, smelling the varying smells as he rises. He smells my arm, looks curiously at the tattoo on my arm, and walks to his bed. Halfway asleep, his little tail wags at my laughter, as he seems to love it most of all. I watch it as I try to think of how I look, because I can still only see the negative after all of this.
The woman with the long dark chocolate hair, who stands 6 feet tall staring into the mirror every morning of every day. She has a broad figure that dons casual clothing like T shirts and jeans no matter what, she just stopped caring about what people thought a long time ago. She has a rough face that tells you that she feels empty, but even with that she can still muster a radiant energy that fills others with what she lacks and that's what fuels her. She talks badly about herself despite what she already knows, she's too blind to just see that she's already great, she just doesn't want to admit it because she's afraid she'll change, even though that's what she desires the most. She's inspired by change and she'll pick up anyone who's down, because she knows how scary it is to be alone, how hard it is to be trapped in darkness. She provides you with light and sometimes she provides too much that it scares people away, then she fades back into the darkness that calls her, it's claws tear into her skin but she's unphased, she just laughs and smiles until it consumes her. She always escapes its grip, she comes near to losing all of her light but she comes back every time with a new self, her eyes once a dark brown shine and her expression is that of someone who's driven towards a goal. Once someone pushed her off the edge into darkness and she grew her wings and flew her way back, then when she met the person she just forgave them and she tried to change them. She looks up to people who normally are in fear of being seen, those who live on the edge of darkness, she brings them out into the world at night, so they can have the comfort of familiar darkness while they bathe in the moonlight. She sees everything in the light of the moon, that of which would be ugly to many she would see a beauty, she admired that they could escape darkness's grip, and she longed for it too, but she finally found out her power is to traverse into any darkness and always be able to come back, not always successful in helping others out, but she'd never forget that she tried. That is the girl with the long dark chocolate hair.
What Do You See...
"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"
What do I see....I see a broken girl, scared and unlovable...I see my tired eyes from crying so many tears...I see my red lips, from biting down on them to silence my sobs...I see my skiny limbs from refusing to eat...I see the tired stance from staying awake all night...I see the demons that are trying to claw there way out...
But I also see the girl that everyone else sees...The girl that isn't me...The girl with a beautiful smile...The girl with sparkaling eyes...The one that can always make you laugh...The one that always wears a smile...The one that they would never expect to cry themselfs to sleep...
People see what they want to see...So what do you see...Do you see the true me...Or do you see the mask...The show that I put on...Tell me what do you see...