i've always had a hard time loving myself
i guess it started with the way adults used to tease me about my chubbiness
and how sensitive i was as a child

after all, i've always had traits i never liked
chubby arms and thighs, a button nose
a mole on my right cheek, a sensitive heart
a wishy washy soul
i can't even draw

then one day,
i thought about how my skin healed after i burnt it really bad from hot water
and how my body kept me warm in the Tokyo breeze late at night in the spring weather
and how i've used these very hands writing this to wipe all my tears

and how my heart, in all its fragility
still fights on and loves
despite all the pains i've felt

and so i realized:
*if this very body of mine can love my soul
and fight to keep me alive and alright,
then it is only right that i love it and accept it