i don't recognise the "girl" in the mirror anymore,
is she still there??
maybe crushed inside
the stars still burn bright just too deep for anyone to see them, or for her to see them
if i'm so uncomfortable in this body why am i still in it
i don't want to play the part anymore
i'm lost, i need to find me
however, there's something comforting about no-one seeing you, but when you leave it too long you can't see you either

parts of you can reappear,
like when you buy a new shirt,
it fits unlike the ones that cling,
you can hide in this one
but it's made for someone else
someone they don't expect you to be
and someone no-one wants you to be
but who do i want me to be
i want to be able to look in the mirror and like what i see, or even just accept it and feel safe within that body that isn't just a skin like this

Where do I begin? I'm lost. So much is personal you see. I had apps and apps full of feelings, moods, poems, my stories and goings on saved onto my device. Now these apps suddenly disappeared, so I downloaded them only to discover they won't reappear! I don't understand, I can't comprehend. I didn't memorize all of those months in some and years in others to recall so I can't just rewrite. Sure instead I could've used paper & pen & locked them away from peering eyes elsewhere but guess what notebooks on top of of notebooks from all my years also to did the act of a disappear. Yes, burned in my house fire with most of my prized possessions that were photos of some but the photos that meant the most were the photos of a man that loved me most and loved me more than any other could, my dad. My dad the man that died & left me to a cruel family that could only hate... only hate me that is. I was so little when he died and I never understood why I wasn't allowed to take that ride to death... with him. Anyone reading this by chance, do you know how I can get the content in those apps back? If I write the things I wrote there esp of recent events then you'd think it's an improper way to vent not being in poetic form and such. It's pretty weird, different and personal too, but my wounds are deep and writing them gave some relief. Now they've disappeared.
No poetry here, just asking for help that'd be much appreciated. Thanks and blessings.