I’ve always loved

Writing about myself,

Looking at myself,

Talking about myself,

Just everything about me.

Like the sun loves itself,

Everyone loves the sun,

It’s bright and sunny

And always stands out,

And it’s loved.

For years,

I was happy

Because I was simply me.

I was happy with who I was,

Like the sun.

People would tell me,

“You smile brighter than the sun,”

And,

“You light up a room whenever you walk in,”
I beamed.  

Until I didn’t.

I picked out every little flaw

The texture of my skin,

The sun does not have acne.

The sound of my voice,

The sun is not annoying and loud. 

The everything of my body,

The sun does not have body hair, stretch marks,

Or fat. 

The way people in the world

Are smarter than me, better than me.

No one is more important than the sun, 

But there are things more important than me. 

The things I would talk about,

Pointless.

The sun is not 

Pointless. 

The way I would do things. 

The way I would do everything.

The sun is perfect, I am not.

I am not like the sun, and I never will be.

And even though,

Now, I love myself.

Trust me, I do.

I love mirrors, and,

Selfies and my hair.

I love my humor,

My intelligence,

My smile, and my drive.

Some days I don’t love myself.

Those are the days

When all I can think all about is

My skin,

If I’m annoying,

Or awkward

And fat.

And those days are

Sometimes every day. 

Because I feel that way

Sometimes everyday,

In waves and in clouds.

Washing over me,  

Drowning me out.

Floating above me,

Ready to pour. 

I am not like the sun;

That is, unfortunately, true. 

I will never be perfect,

And I will never constantly shine

Because tsunamis and rainstorms 

Still persist, 

And the sun may handle it

But I cannot.

And that’s okay,

Because I do not need to be 

Like the sun. 

I just need to be 

Like me.