Perfectly Imperfect


I used to pray. 
I used to pray that when I woke, my skin would be clear of  imperfections. 
Clear of freckles, clear of bumps
I hated being different, noticed, ugly. 
It's hard not to want to be in your own skin. 
It's hard not acquiring self-love. 
It's hard hating yourself more than anyone. 

I face an Eating Disorder. 
ED stares me in the eyes, grinning. 
Laughing at my struggles and praising the hunger. 
He is a part of me and I am a part of him.
I try to push away but his grip only tightens. 

I feel lost. Strangled
Darkness surrounds me and I gasp for air, but only water fills my lungs.
It's suffocating and I can't breathe. 
They try to bring light me and help me see the incredible human being I am. 
But ED whispers "they're only lying".

Being flawless is impossible. 
I should know, I am a perfectionist. 
But fuck perfection. 
Embrace your flaws and love yourself. 
Because you're perfectly imperfect. 


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