My reflection speaks to me.

He reminds me of the person I wish I could be

Twenty pounds lighter

A couple shades dark

Society’s perfect specimen.

I think of the person I could be

And with great disdain,

I look at the person I really am

I wish my flaws away.


How vain could I be,

To pray away my individuality

In order to be a deluded form of myself,

Who could face himself in a mirror?

And then...what would my reflection say?

Just breathe.

That's what people tell me.
Angry? Just breathe.
Emotional? Just breathe.
Sad? Just breathe.
Breathing will relieve you.
But what if breathing is what you're most afraid of?

What if breathing feels like a million lit cigarettes
dancing a tango all over your body?
What if breathing feels worse than not?
The most basic act you need to perform
to stay alive is what gives you a longing to die.
Ironic, huh?

Deal with it.
Things could be worse.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

As much as people would like to think
I'm doing this for attention, I'm not.
I would never put myself through this
for a few minutes of spotlight.
I wish I didn't have to give myself a pep talk
every morning just to walk out the door
because I'm too ashamed of people looking at me
and seeing what I see.  

As much as people would like to think
I feel sorry for myself, I don't.
I feel sorry for the friends that choose to stand by me
wanting to take away my hurt but not knowing how
because I'm too arrogant to accept their help.
I feel sorry for my mother whose own sadness
I've failed to find an answer to.
I feel sorry for both of my parents,
because they live in such small minds that
being my true self would be too much
and crush them.

As much as people would like to think
I should just deal with it, I can't.
Maybe I don't know how.
Maybe it's a puzzle I can't find the pieces for.
Maybe deep down I'm just selfish.
Maybe I let myself get this way.
Maybe I like feeling the pain.
Maybe I'm scared of what I'd feel instead.

Maybe I wish I wasn't such a coward.
Sometimes I wish I was strong enough to let
the shiny sharp silver take the ride down the river
of my arms and watch all of my disappointments
and failures and ugliness and mistakes
drip from my skin to the concrete.

Maybe I'll deal with it.
Maybe I'll stop being selfish.
Maybe I can find the strength
to muster up a weak smile,
and fool everyone.

Maybe I'll just breathe.

I want to exist.
I want to be beautiful.
I want to love my self
These goals seem so realistic.
So, possible.
These goals are goals I’ve had since I was 10 years old.
Standing in my bathroom,
Looking in the mirror,
Crying.
After the boy at school told me I was fat
After the ******* the internet told me to get on a treadmill.
I stared at myself in the mirror wondering,
What I had done to deserve this?
Nothing.
That’s the answer.
I was born with these bones,
I was born with this face,
This ***,
This stomach.
Society makes me look at myself
With disgust for the way I came out of my mother’s womb.
Something I had no control over.
I didn’t ask to be who I am.
Every day I stare at myself in the mirror
Like I did when I was 10.
I’m no longer 10 though,
I’ve learned how to correctly apply makeup
I go to a gym.
I’ve grown into my skin
I have straight teeth,
I went through puberty
I’ve lost and gained weight.
I graduated high school.
I’ve dated.
All of these things were things that I longed for when I was younger,
To be older,
Wiser,
Prettier.
Prettier,
It’s a funny word
I thought I knew what it meant.
I don’t.
I accept the compliments I’m given
Yet I return to that reflection
Hoping the face in the mirror will give me something I’ve been dying for.
Acceptance.
I used to want the acceptance of other
Until I got it,
And realized
Staring into that mirror
All I’ve ever really wanted,
was to go back to that 10 year old
And shake her and tell her she’s beautiful
And erase all of those mean words she’d heard from the girls at school
I’d contradict every word they said to her.
“You’re ugly”
“You’re beautiful”
“You’re fat”
“You’re perfect”
“You’ll never get a boyfriend”
“You’ll find someone”.
“I hate you”
“I love you”
I like to make people laugh
Not to cover up my secrets,
But to disguise people from the broken 10 year old that’s still beneath this skin.
I’ve grown up
I’ve learned to come to terms with who I am.
Sometimes though, I feel that tear stricken, bullied 10 year old coming to the surface
I repress it and remind myself
Society is ******.
Don’t listen to it.
All these years, I’ve longed to be someone else.
When all along,
I’ve just longed to learn to love who I am.

I meet your gaze
You’re gazing at me
Am I supposed to say something now?
Are you even flirting?
Well, now this is awkward…

Please excuse me
And my inability
To understand the signs I’m supposed to know
I should be dark and swarthy
But God made me
just a little bit dorky
And nobody taught me
How to take these first steps
But if you give me half a chance
I could be half-way decent
At being the man you hope that I am
I’m working up the courage
And gaining the confidence
To finally say something to you
Because you, you are radiant
And I long to know you
But I don’t think I can

I’ll bottle my feelings this time
And walk away lonely
Next time for sure
Next time I’ll be brave
And I’ll know what to say
I’ll give you no choice but to love me…
Next time.

I have come to the temple
Of your body.  I kneel and prey
Like a sinner.  The holy water
Beads low on your forbidden
Tabernacle, sears my touch
In cleansing flame, what I do
And what will be done is all
For unrepentant confessions
And penances.  Let me truly
Learn the sacraments of flesh
Before I bathe in your wicked
Innocence and commit my sin
At being mortal in your nimbus
Chambers, let the mercies rain
After the fall of my fellowing
Creature, for this night is blood
Sabbath, and sacrilege under
A Pagan moon and let the dawn
In the rising sun of mute morning
Be my absolution, our benediction,
Let the moving waters enfold us,
Pure as lambs, as washed babes,
Baptismal.

I wish
I wish I were braver
I want to be in an environment where I can be
Brave
Audacious
My Self.
All I am now are whispers
And I'm worried that
I'll fade into an echo
And echoes grow more distant
as time passes.

Today is Sunday.
For the first time they took me out into the sun today.
And for the first time in my life I was aghast
that the sky is so far away
          and so blue
          and so vast
              I stood there without a motion.
Then I sat on the ground with respectful devotion
leaning against the white wall.
Who cares about the waves with which I yearn to roll
Or about strife or freedom or my wife right now.
The soil, the sun and me...
I feel joyful and how.