What's affected me most is my stretch marks. You see, I've always held the untainted label of being 'pretty', but beneath my clothing is an unknown exterior shown only to my eyes.
If only they knew how tainted this porcelain skin really was.
I've always held the unblemished label of 'intelligent', but beneath the confines of my skull is an unknown interior that only affects me. If only they knew how corroded this mind really was.
Exterior and interior; body and mind; one affects the other, plays with it, until it can't function as prettily as everyone would like it to. Over the years, it seemed my body possessed my mind.
I couldn't think of anything other than these two labels; two identities that myself and my environment pushed to maintain. Years quickly passed.
It's like I closed my eyes one night to open them to newly painted walls filled with polaroid memories. I can indefinitely say I changed.
Throughout those last high school years, both my body and mind began to collapse.
I had accumulated an expanse of scars marring my skin like claws scratching at my mind, telling me to lose weight. And my past labels... what labels? I felt I only held one: disgusting.
Both mind and body evolved to meet this label and I began to hate myself; a feeling innocence never prepared me for. It's like my body was turning against me; my own self-created enemy.
Every night I felt the slightest movement tore my skin further, ripping me apart from the inside out. The scars a bright red and purple claw mark now a blinding white lightning strike.
There was no stopping this unforgiving monster inside me that tore me apart figuratively and literally. Even at present they still evolve more every day; it's an inevitable fate.
So, one day, I performed my personal exorcism, forced myself to the ground and threw up the previous days food in hopes the sharp-clawed monster would leave along with it.
But it didn't, it decided to stay and continue its destruction. Every night I wished for the day I wouldn't feel my legs are weighing me down as much as they held me up.
Days washed into each other In a whirlpool of dissolution until one day I looked in that mirror and felt nothing. Eye to eye I now faced the 'monster' that tore me up inside.
She was just a young girl, who knew she could do so much damage? In her eyes held anger and defiance. She was tired of being a monster in a skin she could never shed; she was me.
I hate the fact that I gave up on the girl in the mirror, that I abandoned her when she needed me most. One final glance at her and I decided to change, improve and better myself.
I began to chase daily distractions, one being boxing; it didn't matter how hard I got knocked down but more about if I resurfaced and fought harder.
Another was running: each drop of sweat capturing an insecurity, dripping down my legs over my war stripes and dissolving into the ground with billions of others.
I began to draw insecurities on paper rather than in the mirror and found ways of escaping through strengthening my mind and in turn my body; the two finally reconciling.
I was no longer ashamed of the girl in the mirror, I rather admired her strength and will to persevere. I'm my own inspiration and I want to inspire others.
What's affected me most is my stretch marks, you see my minds always held the tainted label of 'disgusting' but the only thing that ever was, was the labels themselves.
There's no existence of the word imperfect without perfect. I'm both, i'm none; Im me, and that's the best label i could ever hold.