Liking myself was never the plan. Hating myself wasn’t either. I actually have stopped looking at mirrors because I don’t recognize the person at it’s surface. Everything looks familiar, but it’s not home. It’s not what I have always known, not what I’ve been known to be and is surely the thing I’ve never prepared for. What would you do if you looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the person before you? It’s like meeting a friend’s twin for the first time. It’s like you can’t put your finger on it, but something’s just not quite right. I stand in my room looking forward to the reflection bestowed. I search within my eyes to find some familiarity. “You’re green eyes,” I tell myself. “You’ve always loved your green eyes. Hold onto that.” I find I talk to myself much more these days. No one could ever understand the havoc breached within my mind frame, so I let my voice be the one that interrupts it. It’s like an intruder whose come inside to throw off my mind recounting each and everything I do, always to repeat the last failure, or the failure’s I looked to earn. In my mind I deserved each and every bad thing and that was what I was here to own, the faults.