My body isn't me.
I am not the bones,
The skin,
The fat.
The coloration,
My tummy,
The marks on my chest.
I am not the hair on my head,
Or my legs,
Or anywhere else.
I am not the way the skin on my arms move when I extend them.
I am not the way my thighs jiggle while I run.
I am not the way my jeans fit tightly on my hips.
I am not the stretch marks that cover my torso,
I am not the acne on my face,
Or the freckles that decorate my skin.
I am not the way my breasts fill out my bra,
I'm not the way my figure fills out a fitting dress.
I am not the way my chin folds when I look down,
Or the way my cheeks look at different angles.
I AM NOT MY BODY.
I am NOT my body.
I'm not my body.
Yet, that's all you see me for.
I am forced to hate myself,
And the familiarity I feel with my body,
Because the only way to get you to see me for who I am,
Is to LOOK LIKE someone you want me to be.
I'm tired.
My body is sick because of all the ways I've contorted it for you.
Why do I have to be my body?
Why can't I just be me?
