The Real Me

This is a poem about trying to fit in and still learning to love yourself

At the end of every exhausting day 

I look myself in the mirror

Examining all my flaws

Every part of my body

A representation of the insecurities that we all have

Am I good enough? I ask myself

Would they like me for who I am? I wonder

Or do I have to keep being the person who stares back at me from the mirror,

That I don't recognise

My own eyes dig into my soul

Ripping it apart.

Why is my nose so crooked?

Why is my hair so frizzy?

Why are there so many spots on my face?

Why am I not pretty?

All I wanna do is fit in

So what if I have to hide my interests?

So what if I need to cover my face with makeup

So what if I have to be someone I am not

So what if I don't remember who I am anymore.

At Least they like me..

It doesn't matter that I have lost perspective

Doesn't matter that there is no me anymore

Does it? Does it matter that I am who they want me to be and not the bright soul of the little girl who used to chase butterflies in the park.

But wait, who are these people, that I'm trying to please, the ones I threw myself away for?

You? Me? He? She?

We.  It's all of us. 

Oh I'm sorry! Not us, it's the masks that we have all put on.

But, why do I have to change myself, 

Isn't that the point? To be unique

Why do we have to hide behind masks?

Why try to make people like someone you are not?

Why can't we accept each other for who we are?

Why can't I be me, and still be a part of the we.

The real me and the real we.