“Just be yourself,”
They would always tell me,
“No one likes a fake,”
I always heard,
Over and over through the years.
Yet, despite everything I was told,
All I saw were the hypocrites,
“Don’t talk to him, he’s weird.”
“All she talks about are her daddy issues.”
“Look at that sluts cloths.”
Over the years I came to accept,
That people only liked the “real” you,
If you lived up to societies expectations,
Which is something I could never perfectly do
So I hated myself.
My body, my own personal temple,
Never stood a chance compared to the glamour girls,
On the front of magazines,
Who’s perfectly curved bodies,
Looked better than the actual models.
My hair was neither the softest nor the shiniest,
My smile was not the brightest,
My voice was too squeaky,
My limbs were too scrawny,
Even my grades were not the best.
So what was there to love?
Why should I be my real self,
When I hated who I was?
Why would anyone,
Give me a second glance?
That’s what I thought,
Back when I was ignorant,
Before I saw a quiet little girl,
Slowly grow into a woman,
In my mirror.
For so long I didn’t notice my change,
I avoided eye contact when applying makeup,
I kept my head forward when walking past too-clean windows,
But slowly, slowly, I started to notice,
That there was more to me than just beauty or brains.
I started talking and laughing,
And making new friends,
At a rate that I never had before,
And I felt great.
I didn’t care what the weight scale said,
Or if I splurged and got seconds on dessert,
If a zit popped up,
I’d just shrug my shoulders and move on,
I had more important things to do.
Now, when I look in the mirror,
I see what everyone else sees,
A completely ordinary girl,
Who’s just trying to find her way,
And I think she’s beautiful.