The only way I can relieve

all this missery

all this pain

is to scream,

but instead I'll write it in a letter

I thought it be better.

My mother doesn't trust me

she doesn't believe in me.

Every word I speak is yet another lie she hears.

Even though I speak with my cheeks stained with tears.

I guess you get use to it after so many years.

I pick myself apart on a daily basis

my hair is too short

I'm too fat and way too awkward.

I always think I embarrass myself infront of stranger's faces.

I'm quck to judge myself

but even quicker to give compliments

I do this so they don't feel the way I do.

Sad, depressed and lonely.

But weren't we born to be unique

and not just a molded figurine?

Now I realize

being perfect is all just a fantasy.

After all I'm just learning to love.

Learning to love every flaw my body holds.

I think I finally acheived my goals.

As I look in the mirror I now see a strong, out going girl.

My many flaws is what makes me so flawless.