Perfect.

I never thought I'd ever feel the pressure to be perfect.
I used to hear stories about anorexia and bulimia, about kids who smoked and drank to be

"cool"

I laughed at them. I thought, "That will never be me! I'm too smart. That isn't cool."

I can't help it.
I try so hard to be someone's idea of perfect.
Only to realize, I'm trying to be my own idea of perfect.

I work and work and work.
Once I think it's decent...no.
I'm ugly.
My tits are too small.
My scars are showing.
I'm too thin.


Why can't I be her? Why don't I look like her?
Why am I not talented enough? Why can't I do this right?
Why doesn't my hair fall like hers?

I want to meet a standard.
I know I'm fine the way I am...but I don't see fine in the mirror.
I see too thin, too ugly, too weird.

I want to escape myself. Find a new me.
I've tried to change but I can't.

I want to look in the mirror and see someone worthwhile.
Everyone thinks I'm happy, pretty.
For the most part, I'm happy.

LIESLIESLIESLIESLIESLIES

"I'm fine."
LIES.

This rant is going nowhere..

Author's Note

dont review. this is just a result of my consistent self-contempt

Reviews

[Lost]

Really great poem...

[nathan]

Sorry couldn't help it. But I'll tell you that you're not alone in that