I think I look horrible when I laugh, compelled to
cover my mouth when I do. I brush and brush and brush my hair only to find
a fluffy mess in my hands which get tired of all the day's ranting about
myself, Still, at night, I open my journal, take my pen, and write amidst
flowers and sun "Love yourself". I fail at it, various times, When
I get those stabbing looks that say to me maybe I'm not enough,
When I go to bed with voices echoing in my mind
"you're not that girl", Still, I wake up in the morning, open my
journal, take my pen, and write amidst flowers and sun "Love yourself".
I ask people to embrace who they are, But when it comes to me I sometimes feel
like I'm a broken jar.
I am not completely ashamed of who I am but I do
think of things I could change in myself, I just sit and labor to accept who I
am with my imperfections, And when I look at myself in the mirror, I see a body
breathing, heart pumping, in the ocean of stars and their clusters, dreams, and
imaginations. I see, a body breathing, mind running, in the galaxies far above,
the sun shining above. I see a body breathing, who has fallen down a countless
number of times but always got up. I see, a body breathing, feeling comforted
in its own self with a gentle smile on the lips and a curly twig down the face.
I see a body breathing, who preaches love, who calls for love, who runs for
love, who is love. I look at my hands, and I see the lines on it and Woah,
there's so much in it, and there is so much in me that I need to see. Maybe I'm
not that girl, but I am 'a girl' or 'the girl',
That maybe I don't need a specific pronoun or verb
or adjective to define myself. That maybe my body isn't shaped perfectly but
the ideas in my mind are, That maybe the approval I keep looking for needs to
come first from within myself, And all these 'that's' and 'ifs', whys' and could
be' and the daily struggles are put to a halt,
When I open my journal, take my pen, and write
amidst flowers and sun "Love yourself".
Tags:
LIFE