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i am surrounded by mirrors
i look different in each one
every time i glance at a reflection
i morph into something else entirely.
and a stranger stares back.

in one i'm too short.
too short to hold onto my father's hand
i reach and reach
scream and cry
but i go unnoticed.
and a gaping hole forms in my heart.
a hole i try to fill with substances, people and emotions-
but none of them fit.  

in the second i am too fat,
tummy bulges out, and thighs rub together.
my arms are too flabby.
in the background is my mother,
staring at my body with disdainful eyes.
those eyes burn a hole in my chest,
one i that i think starvation will fill,
instead food became my best friend in that reality,
and my mother, a stranger.

in the third hard eyes glare back at me.
a girl who's been so unloved she becomes silent.
this reflection petrifies me,
for this girl is angry and cruel.
her excellence is used against her.
she has been shunned and left behind,
with nothing but her writing to find.

finally, in the last there's droopy eyes.
and that's all that's there,
droopy eyes, smudges on the glass, and someone else's fingerprints.
which reality is mine?

who do i believe?
the version that cries?
the one that lies?
the one they clap for,
or the one that watches from behind?
i hope u can't relate.
i feel a sense of dread
there are beings inside my head
they believe me to be undead
i think the monsters want me bled.

i told them i think something is wrong
they looked at me, smiled, and moved along.
i danced with one in the dead of night,
now they grip onto my mind with all their might.
endure gracefully.
bleed beautifully.
but never too much,
never enough to make them uncomfortable.

cry.
but wipe your tears when you're done.
open your eyes wider,
don't look so depressed,
you're ruining the photo.

girly you can text me anytime
until we actually do
then its,
im not ur ******* therapist.
and a lingering guilt.

why has mental illness also produced standards we must meet,
standards in order to be accepted.
why are some shunned and some welcomed?

we are not an aesthetic.
not broken people in soft lighting.

i scream,
i rot,
i flinch when someone shows me affection,
i hate being hugged,
but still crave it the most.
am i still worthy of love?
not all pain is photogenic
hannah miller Jun 23
i finally found a friend who cares!
    no its too good to be true.
but, but she's not like the others, she's kind and sweet!
    ur delusional, that does not exist.
hello?
you were right.
it was too good to be true.
why can't one find people who aren't fake and not out to use you..
a dog who weeps after it kills,
is no better,
than one who doesn't.
your guilt does not purify you.
2:37am yeah i should really sleep
im spiralling i think
once you have it,
its like a shadow.
you can't outrun a shadow.
especially when that shadow's in your head.
you think things will get better,
they can't.
1:24am
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