I used to look in the mirror, searching for imperfections, like a pane of glass could tell me what I’m worth

But now I’m learning to walk past my reflection without looking back

I always thought other people’s perceptions would create my value, like it was something to be judged

But I never realized that these standards were the sun, I could never get close enough without burning

I once believed that there was some other version of me that would be enough

But now I see that in the search for these ideals there is no consummation

If I could tell my younger self something 

I would say that her looks, perceived by herself and others, are just that, perceptions

I never want to think the ways I thought about myself again, I don’t want that for anybody

But I might be able to help others through my experiences, what I’ve learned, what I’ve unlearned

I can’t determine how others perceive me

But I can determine how I perceive myself

I won’t hold myself to some preordained standard of values, a burning orb I cannot touch

But I might just create my own way of seeing myself

I used to fear that my appearance didn’t meet the standards that determined my humanity

But now I know that it’s something only I can define