My soft fingers trail up the ocean of skin on my arms, jagged, rubbery, uneven, unpretty.
Is this really me?
I look up into the old mirror that hangs in my bathroom, desilvered around the edges a bit cloudy, I look up to my reflection. My eyes are met to a stormy sky, rumbling, turbulent, uneasy, dark, and messy. What looks back at me is contempt. A sorrowful tired hatred. There is a restlessness that comes to me when I try to find me. A deep sorrow that embraces me clouding my surroundings, that grips onto my leathery skin, digging deep, it’s these scars that are well known to me.
I haven’t existed in a while.
My body has a habit of leaving me behind. No matter how long I call out for it, no matter how much I cry for it, my body leaves too, leaving me behind. I know the face of loneliness better than I know mine.
Who am I even?
Me who is uncharted, unknown, forsaken, and alone. It’s only me that is missing from my silhouette even my scars follow into my shadows. When I look in the mirror and I see rain, I am not me. I do not exist, I don’t breathe. A void is a home to me that lies tenderly in my chest. I am empty, in the truer sense, cause neither do I shine black nor do I shine white. It’s just me, my bones, and this void. I am an absence before I am life. Today in this rain, I cannot find myself, I cannot accept who I am.
I am less and unknown.
Although there are days where the reflection that looks back at me isn’t hurt but satiated. A clear sky that greets me when I look into my eyes, blue, bright, happy, content. I exist on those days. I am real no matter how rare. I accept, I am less, I am non. I am me and that is enough.
But before I am, who I am and all that I can be, there comes a long night where I musn’t be. Because this darkness too, is a beloved part of me.
“ I look up into the old mirror that hangs in my bathroom, desilvered around the edges a bit cloudy, I look up to my reflection. My eyes are met to a stormy sky, chaotic, desperate, messy, and turbulent. Once again today, I am breathing under the gray sky, waiting, dreaming, longing to be all that I am and all that I am not, waiting for the day I can meet myself once again.”
“Breathing under the gray sky”