I am not me.

I am not my faults

or my flaws

or my misplaced eyes and nose and mouth.

I am not my lumpy body, though that’s all I can see.

I am not my rough, red face

that always seems to look too fat,

or the uneven hair that doesn’t seem to suit it.

I am not my thoughts, 

or my nightmares,

or the worries that steal my sleep.

I am not my days of unbearable depression,

or my overflowing anger that spills out in heaps.

I am not what you made me.

YOU did not make ME.

YOU made my overflowing anger and my nightmares

 and every single thing that I hate about myself.

I am not me; I am my love.

I am from the Earth.

I am flowers and sunlight and trees. 

My limbs sink into the soil as my skin soaks the sun.

I am beauty and hope and joy.

My mirror does not define me, nor does my head.

And, as hard as it is to accept it, neither do you.

As hard as it is, I am mine. 

-04/12/23