Stand in front of the mirror. Look. Look hard. The makeup smudged under eyes. Hair long past shoulders, waves cascading framing your face from a long day in a high bun. Look hard. Eyes are tired, mouth is tense, skin looks awful. Why are you so unhappy. Why are you shutting down. Why are you letting yourself do what you do best. You know what I’m talking about. You’re doing that thing where you push everybody that means anything to you away. You think you can live alone, live a solitary life. You think they’re better off without you. It’s a form of suicide. It’s a way of killing yourself through denying a life worth living even though the tools are all there in front of you, within your reach, easily graspable.
Look hard. What’s inside. Why do you hate it in there too. Don’t. Remember how good you were getting at loving yourself. At accepting yourself. At feeling pride. Where did it all go. Look hard. Is it there hidden buried deep inside. Where did it all go, slipped away there has to be a shred of it left. Your eyes are tired. You feel tired. For four days you’ve had permanent tears on the edge of your eyes. Look hard. It’s there. You are good and true and worth it and so so so beautiful. Even inside. Even if nobody else loves you. Even if you feel as if you’re poison. You are. Look hard. Look hard and then keep looking. I know you’re tired but don’t close your eyes this isn’t going to be easy.
