TW/ Body Dysmorphia.
All those songs about seeing someone you don't recognize in the mirror are nothing compared to what I go through everyday. For when I stare back into the mirror mounted in my living room, the one I removed from my room because I couldn't handle seeing myself everyday, I see a familiar stranger.
Someone I think I know but don't recognize, a tampered image that doesn't relate to reality, just an illusion created by my own head to taunt me. A punishment of some sort.
The little things, they haunt me. The little details that no one would even notice, things only the annoying perfectionist inside me notices.
Some days I stay home in fear of what others may think of my own appearance, a trait I can't seem to get rid of. The skin treatments and makeup are useless at this point as I am never half as satisfied with myself as I need to be.
I can't help but pick at my skin in hopes of fixing some part of it magically, if only there was a spell I could cast on myself to stop worrying all the time.
But I can't. I can't stop worrying. And it worries me.
YOU ARE READING
Emotional Torture.
PuisiCollection of poems and pieces written about daily struggles and tackling big world problems from the eyes of a teenager. Warning: Some chapters might be triggering. Triggers include: Suicide Eating disorder Self harm
