i’ve been told
since the young age of 7
that i was, quote on quote “fugly”
or that i wasn’t pretty
or that i was too weird
and maybe too much to handle

since 7 years old
the fact that i wasn’t good enough
was hammered into my brain
before i even knew
the definition of
perfect

from then i have thought
am i not skinny
enough?
is my stomach not flat
enough?
are my arms too fat
or are my legs not thin
enough?
is my body not good
enough?
or how about my face
for the fact that an illness took away part of


my smile
and part of my nose
and part of my eye

now you might not see these things, but i do
i see how my fingers are just a little too fat
i see how my bags under my eyes show a little
too much
i see how my lips turn different colors when i

cry
and i see how i cry just a little too much.

why can’t i just see how this might be a good thing?
for that i am not perfect to me
but someday
somewhere
somehow
i’ll be
somebody else’s
perfect