Sometimes I think about that long summer day with my golden skin and that natural hair I was too comfortable in and I thank myself for allowing me to be free even if it was just me and a mirror in an unconditioned room.
Then I snap back to my twitter feed, looking to eat up whatever it serves me. Silicon, plastic human hair weave barbie dolls with permanent painted smiles patiently waiting to exhale. Assuming their waiting for their next 50 likes, I find myself pressing that heart shaped button, confirming the beauty of their silky complexion and pillowy lips.
Then I go through my own photo gallery asking god why he couldnt make me with less flaws and I swear sometimes its like I can hear him in my ear telling me im "Flawless". I check in the mirror and confirm once again that I am not beyonce and find something else to do.
It isnt until later that day when im surrounded by those who adore me, throwing our heads back dwelling in the pure euphoria of being in eatch others company, that I walk past a reflection I swore I hadnt seen before and wince at a beaming smile with beautiful sunlit eyes and realize,
"Damn...he was right."