I'm tired of standing in front of the bathroom mirror and picking myself apart every morning. I grab at the skin on my waist and ask myself "why?", I drag my fingers through my knotted hair in disgust and I pinch my thighs, wishing they would get smaller. I've been so set on being society's idea of perfection that I had not slowed down to notice how beautiful I really could be. The freckles running down my neck, like constellations in the northern sky, the curls in my hair laying over my shoulders and the roses blooming in my cheeks. I stood in the mirror and looked myself in the eyes and noticed my pupils darken and grow larger because I really do love myself. I used to only care about what you thought of me and the day you threw me away, I threw myself away too. But today, that's not the case. I'm picking myself back up and putting myself back together. I love who I am as a person and that's enough.