Numbing Waves

An Actual Beauty

I wanted to look into the mirror and see beauty. More so I didn't want it, I needed it. I needed so deeply to love myself because at this moment I have just realized no will ever love me. Whether they have the inability to, or loving me is just not an interesting topic to them.

The mirror is such a deceiving friend. How painfully it tells the truth, unlike any other.

I cannot call the dark circles under my eyes beautiful. I've been bent over trying to find a use for myself for hours. Its resulted in a tired, ragged appearance I can never seem to shake.

The deeper I stare into my eyes the more I am convinced that they are in fact layer-less and I am just as shallow as I've always thought. I cannot comprehend what they see in me; those people who have allowed a space for me in their hearts. Do they think I'm beautiful purely because they cannot see the real me?

My lips may be drying because I have deprived myself of the proper intake of nutrients or perhaps because I thirst for something I am not worthy to grasp.

Its not even that I think i'm ugly or that I hate myself. I do not believe in hating something as innocent as my body; something created solely to house and protect my organs and allow my consciousness to transport itself. I truly believe I don't deserves admiration. I am undeserving of anyone's attention. What a burden I have placed on them. To have allowed myself to be a part of their lives is monstrous. How could I do this?

If I voiced these thoughts they would all scoff. They wouldn't believe that I cannot see what they see. Perhaps they'd even think I was just seeking attention and that my mood would lighten if they yet again complimented me.

What they compliment me on is just the way nature has arranged for my skin and features to be placed on a skeleton.

When stare into the mirror I am not trying to find the beauty of my physical body. I am trying to stare into my soul and see if I am beautiful. And this is what no one will ever understand. The plump lips and curvy hips I have will never matter to me as much as the answer to the questions I cry and tear at myself over.

Am I a good person?

Am I admirable?

Am I deserving of love and the ability to love another?

Is my soul beautiful?

If my inner being had manifested into something physical in which others could gaze upon it, would they stop what they were doing when it walked into a room? Would they feel the dopamine race through their body and have the inability to tear their eyes away? Would they even notice it and even for a millisecond, would their heart skip a beat?

I fear deeply that this is not what would happen. In fact I believe that if my skin was shed and my true self was revealed then people would stare, but only to wonder what ever on earth they could be looking at. Or that they might glance in my direction and quickly realize how boring and unappealing I am. Or that they would not even notice my existence at all.

And this, is why I am not beautiful.