I draw a picture of me. Or rather the girl I want the world to see. I draw my pixie cut despite my itching to draw long locks. I draw hazel eyes with black eyeliner, sometimes a little too dark or a little too messy. I draw a sly smile like Mona Lisa, either holding back laughter or a small secret. I draw a slim body, a little on the short side, wearing cute clothes. And by the end of my drawing, I hesitantly add a face full of freckles, zits, and moles. As I look at the picture, I can't help but smile. She looks like me and I am proud. Proud of the person I am & proud of my depiction. But, as I sit out in public, ready to write my thoughts in my journal, I accidentally open up to the page with the drawing. Startled, I flip through the pages, finding blank lines, raising my eyes and praying that not a person saw. As I look around, seeing no other eyes, I'm silently thankful no one saw my little scratches and scrawls of ink on my paper, forming a self portrait of how I want to be seen to the world & to myself. Because in the real world, when I'm not all alone, it can be scary to show myself. To me, they are the true judges and they can judge with different, harsher eyes than myself. I fear they would draw me differently and our drawings would not align. I fear mine would look better than there's. They would mock my drawing and cause me to burn it or throw it away. Because that's what the world does. They tear down our views of ourselves. Sometimes for the worst and sometimes for the best. Or so that's what I think, with my drawn eyes.
