you were there for me once upon a time,
    in sleepless nights and ungodly hours,
                and forgotten wishes made on shooting stars.

you were there for me once upon a time,
                in empty rinks at midnight,
    and fractured memories of a better time.

your sparkling eyes wink back at me whenever i fall,
a starburst of flashing streetlights and glittering stars,
filled with infinite opportunities and unfulfilled dreams,
with stores to explore and people to meet,
and it always felt as if you were healing my broken heart with your blinding colors.

your voice is an orchestra,
made of a toddler’s excited squeals and a young man’s silent tears,
made of a mother’s soft lullabies and a businesswoman’s clicking heels,
made of honking cars and laughing schoolchildren.
it cannot be silenced,
no matter how hard they may try to force your mouth shut.

you are the long walks at night,
the glances out the window of a glass rink,
the prayers from my balcony.  

in the end, i want to thank you,
for growing up with me and teaching me everything i know,
and for being a part of me i’ll never forget.

“hate yourself,” you said,
“because you don’t deserve to love yourself.”

and you don’t deserve to love yourself,
until you’ve lost weight.
you don’t deserve to love yourself,
unless you’re getting straight a’s.
you don’t deserve to love yourself,
unless people love you first.

“hate yourself,” you said,
“because you’ll never be good enough.”

and you won’t be good enough,
until you’ve done your share,
you won’t be good enough,
until you’ve earned good money.
you won’t be good enough,
until people say you are.

“hate yourself,” you said,
before you asked me what i wanted to be.

and when i told you,
you said
asian girls don’t become hollywood actresses
and ugly girls aren’t meant to wear beautiful dresses

when i told you,
you said
fat girls don’t become figure skaters
and stupid girls aren’t meant to idolize writers

you think that i live for your approval
that i am desperate for your love
because i can’t love myself

and as much as i hate to admit it,
you’re right.
and as much as i hate to admit it,
i do hate myself

i hate myself the way you say i should,
i hate every curve of my body,
and every word that comes out of my mouth.
i hate every

i hate myself
because for fifteen years
this society has taught me
that i wasn’t allowed to love myself.

but today,
i’m taking back what you stole from me.
today i’m breaking all your rules,
and today, i’m standing before you,
smiling and unbroken

to tell you that
i am beautiful
despite the flaws you have so carefully
pointed out

to tell you that
i am strong
despite your constant reassurances
that i was not.

and most of all,
i have come to tell you
that i love myself.
and perhaps i’ve broken the most sacred of your rules in doing so
but i did it
to save myself
but i don’t regret a single thing
and i know i never will.

because she could've been legend
a fairytale in the flesh with a happily ever after
she could've been a star shining in the night sky
guiding so many wide-eyed children to their own impossible dreams

but no
she might've been destined for greatness
but we would never know

the dark hair that once tumbled freely over her shoulders
is now withered and thin
the eyes that once sparkled with fearless emotion in front of a thousand watching cameras
has been dimmed of its lovely gleam
and those skates that once graced the ice with so much passion
has been carelessly discarded in the back of a wooden cupboard
never to see the light again

but her body
oh, her body
was a work of terrible art
her skin was a galaxy of bruises
her teeth half-rotted and decaying
her bones more brittle than a sheet of glass

so she forced herself to turn round
with knives embedded in her heart and acid in her guts
to face the television where a child
with smiling eyes and smiling lips and veins filled with happiness
danced across frozen water in a sequined dress
with steps light as a feather
and fell to her knees
screaming 'she could've been me'

and as she sat alone in a cinema filled with strangers
watching a movie she did not even know the title of
the young starlet having the time of her life
on the silver screen
all she could think as tears slipped from her hollow eyes
down her sunken cheeks
onto the sliced up apple she had pretended was caramel popcorn
was 'she could've been me'

because once upon a time
a little girl dreamed of becoming an olympic figure skater
and an oscar-worthy actress
and she could've done it
if only her skin had been a little thicker
if only she would have laughed off the biting remarks
before she let the demons slither through the chinks in her armor