Every now and then I glance in the mirror…and feel pretty.
And it catches me so off guard that my walls crash down. And the guilt screams vanity and quickly finds a blemish to highlight and sing to.
And it’s easier to believe the ugly than a fleeting moment of a pretty girl reflected.
Deep and long and toxic words, not even half truths, I’ve let myself believe.
Let my body and soul be starved for.
And yet, sometimes unexpectedly I see a pretty girl. So, I know I’m getting stronger. The toxicity is losing ground; so claws come out.
To the vain, selfish, “pretty girl” let me whisper ugly nothings…
Have another cup of coffee, it’ll do til lunch, the headaches don’t leave anyways.
But there’s a louder voice fighting back…
Stand tall pretty girl, one day it’ll be your constant reflection.
No more blurred vision or crippling dysmorphia. One day she won’t take you by surprise.
And we get to choose which voice to believe.
We get to choose to be our own friend. To see the pretty despite the flaws.