My face through the mirror on the bathroom wall.
Beautifully smeared through the steam in the shower.
Every flaw blends perfectly—from the bags under my eyes to the acne on my nose.
My eyes are a blur of dark brown and black.
You can no longer see the pain and sadness through them.
The hidden feelings and drive to pretend disappear.
I smile weakly, a smudge of red pulling up slightly through the steam.
I smile because, for once I feel beautiful.
I smile because, for once, when I step out of the bathroom’s steam…
I might not become like the mirror on your bathroom walls.
I might not become so relatable.
So… trustworthy.
I may not reflect your stories and faces in my own.
Maybe I can stop being “the shoulder to cry on.”
Maybe someone will see that I am in need of a shoulder.
And maybe, just maybe, when I find that shoulder to cry on…
I can become beautiful.
Maybe one day, I’ll see myself as beautiful, without the steam.
Maybe one day, I’ll love all of me, and not just…
My face through the steamy mirror on the bathroom wall.