What is it to be perfect?
I am not.
I am far from perfect.
To be perfect is torture
I try so hard
Not to impress anyone, just me
Sometimes I stare in the mirror for hours
Wishing I could change
Be something, somebody else
I’m tired of this skin, this prison
How can I accept who I am when the whole world doesn’t?
I grab at my body
My stomach, thighs
I want it gone, want to pull it off, want to be perfect
I spend hours wondering
How do I change?
How can I be like her?
I am not the reflection I want to see
I cannot be loved if I do not love myself
(These are real letters from real woman who have sent me their stories to share with all of you! They have not been altered, edited, or changed in anyway and if you have a story of your own to share email me at firstname.lastname@example.org)