More Than a Sum of Imperfections

TRIGGER WARNING: If you are triggered by mentions of self-harm, anorexia, and negative body image, please do not read this.

I messed up again.

I stared at my reflection,

and named everything

that I hated about myself and why.

The acne on my face and back

from dealing with stress

and the medications I take to

stay sane.

(Come on, get your crap together!

Learn how to handle crap better.

You’re not a disgusting

funny-looking teen anymore.

You can do better.)

The stretch marks

that run along my stomach and thighs,

more prominent than the veins under them.

(You’ve never had children.

You’re just a fat bitch.

You should’ve let that eating disorder

take over. At least

you would’ve been skinny.)

The slight raised scars

by the soft part of my elbow

where I once ran pins across

to make myself feel something.

(Weak! Weak! Weak!

You should’ve gone through with it.

You’re so deeply messed up.

Look harder.

You can find more things

wrong with yourself.

You know how terrible-)

No.

I will not do this from myself.

I will not! I will not!

I am strong.

I am resilient.

I’ve gone through hell and no one but me has

gotten me through it.

There is more to me than

darkness and tears.

Despite what that cruel hurt voice

of mine will hiss,

I am more than just a sum of imperfections.

Copyright © 2019 by Nita Pan

All rights reserved. This post or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

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