who is she? i’m not saying that in a cute, quirky, self-confident way either, like genuinely, who is she? i don’t remember when i morphed from a bony, pimply, bowlegged teen into a soft, dimpled, hunchbacked “adult”. there are still remnants of her-- my forehead still bears the marks of farms of blackheads and my collarbones are still visible when i allow them to be-- but her this “woman” looking back at me is still as foreign as blood pudding. i still feel the same, relatively, as i did when i was 5 years younger. i still tend to wear clothes that are comfortable over flattering. i still feel my stomach tied into itself at the thought of making a doctor’s appointment on my own. i still feel like me. but her? i don’t recognize her.
taken from the prompt by little infinite poetry (the 30-day guide). i was instructed to look at my reflection. definitely a work in progress but i did like how it turned out :)