I never really thought of myself as depressed.
Hell, my family certainly didn't talk about mental health. But even as a child, I've just always felt different, like there was a separation between me and the world. Imagine being an observer of your...
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My adversary stands reflected before me.
And all I see is flaws.
My hips are too wide, my skin is too dark. My hair is broken off, and my face is too round. I hate that my stomach isn't flat, and that nothing fits right.
Then in my eyes, lies such sadness.
While thoughts of if only enter my mind...
If only, I had stuck to that diet.
If only, I had my sister's height.
If only, my breasts were smaller.
If only, my eyes were a lighter brown.
If only, I was light skinned.
If only, I was thinner...
I'd be happy.
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I don't remember ever being tiny. I was never that petite girl I yearned to be as a kid, and it hurt to be forced to buy things at generic stores while my older sister with the tiny waist got to shop at boutiques. And she delighted in being able to tease me, she reveled in the ability to flaunt her small frame in leather pants while demolishing Hershey bar after Hershey bar.
It sucked hearing:
"Oh, you're the youngest?"
"She's only twelve? Well she's not shaped anything like my Bianca."
"Your sister is so pretty."
It's hard as a child to see beyond imperfections, especially when others are quick to point them out. Thus, I began to use humor to crack self-depreciating jokes about myself before anyone else could. I make light of an inner pain that has never truly faded as years passed, while thinking...
