Despite the beauty people preach to me, the monster staring back tells a different story. It’s the same thing every morning, as I get ready and stare back at my own reflection, not even the affirmations can heel whatever is broken. Each little chant, “you are beautiful”, “you are loved”, “you are good”. Each tiny imperfection only reiterates how truly pathetic these lies are.

Out in the world, at the store, at the restaurants, I know these strangers are liars. Little complements here and there mean nothing when I know the truth. That the heinous creature watching me from opaque windows, and metals passing by is my abomination of myself, a mockery of the perfect person.

Those who are close to me, I can only pray they never see my reflection. It’s no point to argue when we laugh and take photos, when the images they show me of myself are even worse than the thing in the mirror. What truly hurts is when they say how horrific they are. They talk down to them selves as if they are not a goddess, beautiful and radiant in every little way. The way they act as if every little mistake defines them as an individual. How dare they speak to themselves like that when their reflection is so glorious.

I don’t feel envious of them; I wish that they could see how lovely they are in others eyes. I wish they could see that one blemish, or even fifty, does not make them any less astonishing. I wish I could hold their hand and look them in the eye, and they would know that those demonic whispers are not true.

As for the thing that looks back at me; there is no saving that. That hypocritical, worm of a human. That so called “good person”. I am not kind or selfless; I am careless and selfish. Most importantly, that monster that looks back at me, I hope someday it turns away, and I can see the good I see in others in myself, when I look in the mirror.