Every time I face the mirror, She’s already standing there, Eyes that used to hold some wonder Now just drowning in despair. “You eat too much, you’re getting bigger,” Echoes louder than before, Every word a sharpened whisper Carved into my very core. I hear it even in the silence, Feel it in each passing glance, Like I’m trapped inside a standard I was never meant to match. So I started shrinking pieces, Little parts I thought were wrong, Told myself if I got smaller I might finally belong. Now she’s weaker, barely speaking, Counting every bite she takes, Always fearing, always thinking Every choice is a mistake. There are days she’s barely eating, Calling hunger something “good,” Like the emptiness inside her Means she’s doing what she should. I can see it—she is fading, But I tell her it’s okay, Like the less of her that’s left here Means the pain will go away. She shakes her head and looks at my thighs, They’ve been cut by harsh words, hidden lies, Not all wounds are made by hand, Some are ones you don’t understand. Fingerprints of every comment, Every look that lingered too long, Every time I felt like somehow I was built entirely wrong. I do this to cope when bad things happen, It’s a habit I keep relapsing, Like a cycle I can’t outrun, Like a war that’s never done. I tell myself it doesn’t matter, That I’m still in control somehow, But the truth is getting harder Just to even say out loud. With tears in her eyes she manages to say, “Why are you hurting us this way?” Her voice is quiet, thin, and frayed, Like something fragile, soon to break. And I feel my own tears start to rise, But I bury them deep, disguise, Force a steady, practiced tone Like I’m not standing here alone. “Because I don’t know where else to go, When everything feels far too close, When my thoughts won’t slow, won’t rest, won’t bend, And I can’t tell foe from friend. When every feeling turns to noise, And every silence just destroys, When I try to speak, it disappears— So it turns into this instead of tears. Not better—just something real, Something I can actually feel, Something sharp enough to prove I’m still here… I still move.” But even as the words come out, They twist themselves into a doubt, ’Cause she just stares like she can see Every lie I tell to me. “There was a time,” she tries to say, “You didn’t look at me this way, You didn’t measure every part, Or treat your body like a target, not a heart.” Her words don’t land the way they should, I wish to feel them—if I could, But guilt just builds and fills my chest Like I don’t deserve to rest. So I look away again, ashamed, Like saying sorry fixes pain, Like silence somehow makes it right, Like I’m not losing this same fight. But in the mirror, she remains, Through all the hurt, through all the strain, Not gone, not broken past repair— Just waiting for me to finally care. And maybe one day I’ll stand still, And fight the voice that bends my will, And see her not as someone to blame, But someone I should never shame. Maybe one day I won’t feel Like pain is something I must conceal, Or something I deserve to keep— Or something I need just to breathe. And maybe then… she’ll meet my eyes, Without the hurt, without disguise, And I won’t have to turn away From the girl I see each day. -Noah ☆
