Sometimes it's nice to pretend.
To pretend i can find love,
That i will be whole once more.
To pretend that i want to be here,
To think i can smile and it not be forced.
To have a fun life.

Sometimes it's nice to pretend that being me isn't a bad thing.
That my body is beautiful.
That i am beautiful.

It's nice to think that my façade will protect me.
But each day my mask cracks and i am terrified of what lies beneath.
I look in the mirror and do not recognise myself.
I look in the mirror and think "what is that".
I think "how could this body of mine be loveable.

But then i stop.
And i think,
This is not my body,
This is not me.
This is my vessel and i am on the inside.
But i am not trapped in this body of mine.
I hold it together because without my soul,
I will just be a vessel.
An empty vessel.
And i do not want to be like that.
I refuse to make that of myself.

So i will live one day at a time,
One hour at a time,
One second at a time.
Because at the end of this,
I am me.
And i forever will be.

Poetry/ Random shortsWhere stories live. Discover now