Past The Mistakes

4 | face me

Your soft breaths cloud my mind.

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INSECURITIES ARE what make humans imperfect and give them character. It makes people act out in ways they wouldn't have if they didn't have a feeling of anxiety, judgment, and negative emotions attached to it.

I know exactly what my insecurities are and even being self-aware doesn't change anything about it because I can't overcome them. It has become a part of me.

So now I don't even try. I accept myself and move on, because, at the end of the day, that's all you have to do.

I never liked looking at myself in the mirror.

I found it awkward to see my reflection blankly stare back at me, but for the first time in a while, I decided to analyze myself.

What was so interesting about me? 

As much as I hate my parents for everything they put everyone through, they did me well.

My Arabic father's side gifted me with my naturally long, curly, and dark lashes that framed my big, dark brown eyes and those high cheekbones that ran in his family. My Caucasian, distantly Scottish mother's side gave me my dark long locks reaching down to my waist in cascading waves, as well as those freckles that dotted around my nose and cheeks.

My grandfather used to always tell me that my freckles used to look like stars on my face and for that reason, I had always loved them.

As far as my skin was concerned, I was honestly blessed with relatively clear caramel-coloured skin. Apart from some occasional acne that usually happened around the time of my periods, my skin was fine, probably because I was always diligent with the SPF and washing my face.

Honestly, I wasn't the ugliest in the world, but nor did that make me a model either.

I just hoped I was good enough to make up for the fact that my nose isn't a button nose and that my ears looked too big, my fingers are slightly chubbier.

When I used to go to school, my friend Tyra used to always compliment my hair, always wanting to braid my hair. I would laugh and allow her, knowing she would still force me to even if I said no.

Sometimes I would miss her, especially on my off days. Missing the way she would braid my hair into those neatly made French braids. The way she would invite me over to her house to binge-watch Modern Family. I even missed her stupid addiction to Nutella which she used to eat with almost everything.

I missed having friends.

But Tyra was prohibited from speaking to me after what had happened, and I had lost everything. My grandfather pulled me out of school after finding me crying by the big, old willow tree outside the school on countless occasions. He put me into online school where he knew I would be safe and not harassed by randoms who blamed me for everything that had happened almost 11 years ago.

I understand their anger but not why it's directed at me, us, people who had nothing to do with it.

I blinked realizing exactly where my mind was headed and I shook my head angrily. I stared back at my reflection and stared into my dark brown eyes, seeing the sadness lingering in them.

I wondered if I would ever feel truly happy again.

And then I felt awkward again.

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