48

48 and counting.

The amount of times I’ve looked at myself in the mirror today.

48 and counting.

Last semester I let a monster take over my body, it consumed me in ways I never thought imaginable.

It forced me to look at my imperfections in the most disgusting way possible. Every morning it was the first thing I thought off. When my friends asked if I wanted to go out, my imperfections reminded me I wasn’t worthy. Not only did they remind me I wasn’t worthy of other’s time, they convinced me I wasn’t deserving of happiness.

If you’re not thinking, I’ll say it.

Imperfections suck.

I let my semester slip through my hands, refusing happiness, refusing love and refusing help.

My monster is my safe place because it knows my secrets. The ones that are covered in filth, despicable to even look at. My monster knows what I hide; it knows that if I keep to it I’m safe.

Tomorrow I’ll try to look in the mirror less. Maybe 40 times instead of 48. Maybe only 47 times. The less I look in the mirror, the more power I gain.

The more it loses and I win.

 

 

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