I look in the mirror, tears rolling down my face, looking at the girl staring back at me.

I can feel her sadness and confusion on why I can’t love her, why I can’t even accept her.

When I look at her all I see is her appearance: horrid and disgusting.

When I look at her all I see is her failures: grades, fights, and sins.

She cries out for me to see more in her than that, that she’s a daughter, a sister, a partner, and a person.

She cries as I drown out her voice with my own telling me to change everything about her.

The mirror might as well crack and disfigure, it has no purpose because I can’t see what’s there, I can only see my own disfigured version.

The mirror might as well not exist, it’s not like I trust it when I occasionally see the beauty in her.

I can’t see all the faces that had loved each other for me to get here, or the love from others for me.

I wait impatiently for the day I can look at her and say she’s beautiful just the way she is.