The Melting Plastic
Flawless cat-eyes. Long, lush lashes. Bronzer for days. Flat stomach that sinks into itself. Not an inch of extra around my hips. Clothes tailored to a size zero. Always patient. Always kind. Ivory skin with no blemishes. Every appointment kept. Every social outing attended. Always smiling. Always loving you.
I tried to be what you wanted me to be, so much so that I wore myself down to nothing but a frail skin covering even frailer bones. A translucent ghost with nothing left in her life that she truly loved.
I’m not sorry I couldn’t compete. I’m not sorry I showed you my human side. This is me. This naked mannequin baring it all on a deserted street in the middle of the night. And I’m okay with that. I am learning to love my scars and hold them close as proof that I have lived this life, and lived it well.
The only thing I am sorry for is that I ever felt that I needed to be perfect in order to be worthy of love. And, in my dreams, you tell me that this naked bare soul is worthy of your love, all love.