Bones

My skin no longer sits still against my bones. they always tell us to be comfortable in our own skin but what if I don’t?

I don’t hate how I look. it’s not that I don’t think I’m pretty or wish I was skinnier or some bullshit like that.

It’s that sometimes I stare at myself in the mirror for what feels like an eternity. Searching trying to get used to this strange exterior that holds my soul.

is that really me?

what is me?

why do I feel like I’ve never seen this girl before? who is she and why does she keep me here?

I tried to cut myself out of my skin once, tried to poison my organs, tried to wish myself out, tried to cry my body dry until I cracked into a million pieces and drifted away.

It never worked.

so now I am trying to get used to the girl I see in the mirror.

I try to be ok being in her.

I try to make her a better person.

God I wish she would smile more