In the mirror, I gaze, a face that is not my own,
A visage of a monster, chilling to the bone.
What defines a monster, but our own perception anyway?
If they were the epitome of beauty, we’d see them in that way.

I was too tired to cook last night. I felt like falling asleep.
I drank coffee for lunch because homework couldn’t stop piling up.
My mind forgets the battles won, the dragons slayed.
All the blood, sweat and tears I had to push through to get to this point.

Pinch the bridge of my nose—
is it wrong,
too wide,
too flat?
Prepare your rust-covered tools,
bite into my bone,
smooth like your dream ski slope.
Whittle me down
to a shape that’s not my own.

I.

The first time someone called me fat was in the 1st grade.

I have always been chubby, and I knew it.

Moreover, people around me never let me forget it.

The hollow shadow of my figure beckoned my insecurities.