The first thing I notice when I look in the mirror is my nose; thin, long and narrow. 

Not upturned like other girls. Not small when I smile.

It's just there. Straight. Narrow. Thin.

When I take pictures I only take face foward ones because the back camera catches my insecurities.

My foreheads too low, my body is too thin, my bottom teeth is crooked, and the belts that I have can be wrapped around my fragile waist twice. 

I look at the sidewalk when I walk on busy streets, I avoid eye contact because I feel inferior to others. 

My voice no longer exists. Others take advantage and stampede on my words as if they were never said. 

Fear isn't just a four letter word. Fear speaks volume. Fear comes as quickly as a thunder storm clouds over the sky. 

When others compliment me, I accuse them of lying because they clearly don't see what I see whenI look in the mirror.

But when I looked in the mirror I saw myself. I actually saw what others saw.  

I saw a preppy young adult. 

Her eyes were big and chinese angled, her lips in a shape of a bow which curled back when she smiled. 

Her smile was bright; crooked but bright. 

Bright as the sun, brighter than a star at night.

My fear wasn't overcome because I accepted the way that I looked,

it was overcome because the only person who really needed to accept me, is me.