i want you to meet the real me.

i’m a monster, silver glinting at my throat, on my fingers, in my ears.

all i’ve ever wanted to do is become invisible and disappear into the background, but when you look like me, that’s pretty much impossible. i can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror anymore, where time and depression has weathered my cage of a body into something that i don’t recognize anymore. piercing eyes, a deviated septum and pronounced cheekbones are who i am today, but i don’t feel like that person that i see staring straight back at me from behind the glass.

beauty is the only thing that’d get you far in this world, and it’s surprising that many people think that i have that trait. it hurts, having people throw the one thing that i’ve always wanted to be but never could back in my face, toying with me until i eventually break. i am porcelain, a fragile young woman, but nowhere near beautiful. my url is what i aspire to be, someday.

i am not the size of my stomach, nor my thighs, nor my breasts. i am not the scars that riddle my legs, nor my arms, nor my face. i am my personality, intelligence and maturity. i am playing video games late at night, blogging every day and staying a seven year old forever. i am a manager at a local fast food joint, a university student and a lover.

when will my reflection show who i am inside?