I would see that face,
the face that followed me to the mirror.
Haunted me with its hunger,
its dire need to be perfect.
There was that scar from what happened long ago.
It still stays, reminding me of sad times.
Everything I was supposed to see was invisible,
all that I wasn't was clear.
I would stand there, pinching where there was too much of me,
as if I could take it off with pain.
My eyes, I'd tell myself, focus on those eyes.
But soon my special glimmer dulled,
giving way to become another flaw.
Flawed, flawed, flawed, that's all I was.
Ugly, chubby, pimply, monstrous, I would accept if I couldn't change.
But how can one give into imperfection when the promise of beauty always lies before you?
For years I would rage on Earth, feverishly doing whatever I could to change.
And it did, but I never needed to do a thing but open my eyes.
Walking home, the sun appeared out of the cloudy day, and for that one moment, that one glorious moment, I truly saw me, a girl with a normal body and thick, curly hair, lying on the concrete.
She was who I always wanted to be,
who I always was all along.
My heart swelled with the realization, eyes tearing with relief.
Home, I gathered my courage and braced myself for the scrutinizing mirror.
All I saw was those eyes, bright blue and finally, finally sparkling again.