A soft vibration. Low and lulling, moving the ground below me but unable to stir. The mirror stared back like an angry bully on a cold day, it pulled my bags and widened the gaps between my teeth. Maybe it would be better to cover it, or perhaps fixating on the reflection would begin the changes and twist the obvious truths.
It hasn't always been this way. Maybe a year or two ago, these thoughts would've remained locked up and incarcerated within the cerebellum. Untouched and untouchable, only peering out and breaking loose when all was dark and the clocks had fallen past 12.
You see, it's everything. School. Family. Friends even. Friends that tell you about the hair on your arms, "friends" that make jokes about your muscular legs and fuzzy top lip. I'd like to say it's jealousy- it makes people hit and snark and keep on taking. Taking until there's nothing left, and you begin to turn to the air and the stars for the beauty wondering in your life.
This is where it begins and ends in many ways. A circular narrative some may say, except there is no resolution. Pouring down. Like trying to stop sand slipping between your grasp. You can throw effort into preserving each grain above skin, but eventually you don't see the point and it glides down. And down. Anddown.
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