You’re beautiful, especially when you smile. It lights up your eyes and you get a healthy glow around you.
When you frown it makes the world want to cry. You deserve to be happy, girl.
That scar on your knee, from falling off a swing, what a beautiful reminder of happy times.
The freckles show time spent playing in the sun, laughing with friends.
The tear tracks down your face. Please don’t cry.
There is no reason to cry.
You’re skin and bones; you can see all your ribs. A legacy of self starvation. You were always too thin. Never fat. Never.
Those scars, those awful scars, you need not make more. You never needed them to begin with.
Please stop crying.
Girl, you are wonderful. Everything about you is a miracle, can’t you see that?
Hush now, stop those tears. Let us see your smile.
What are you doing? Put that down. You don’t need that.
“Freak,” you mouth; face contorting with hate.
No darling, no. Don’t think that. You are beautiful, not a freak. Never a freak darling.
I reach out to stroke her cheek, to draw her into a hug, to take that damned blade out of her possession.
My hand touched cold glass. I turned away.
Me and her, we were so similar, but so very different.
She was beautiful, loved, strong... happy.
I was anything but.
The girl in the mirror wasn’t me. People loved her. She would live. She would always be alive.
Nobody could possibly love me. I wouldn’t, couldn’t, live. I was gone. Forever.
