#blemishes

You looked up in the mirror, seeing only one thing...Acne.

It was always there, taking prey of your insecurities, no matter how much money, product, or just begging you had. It never went away.

These past two days have been more difficult by the second, the ongoing pain of not feeling pretty.

The blemishes and the other forms of scar were like open wounds, but they never healed.

You turned away from the mirror and sat down on the bed. Your eyes are puffy from crying constantly...You were just...tired.

Grabbing your phone, you open it right to Instagram, like a pattern. Your thumb is already hovering over the app like second nature.

You scrolled, seeing all these pretty women, skin clear and beautiful. Feeling your own skin, rough and full of something you didn't want to see in the mirror.

You threw your phone, angry that you couldn't be like that. Grabbing your pillow and crying, but no tears fell.

You tried talking to your mom...surely she must understand. It quietly, but gradually, shifted to a discussion about her.

Not about the feelings you were bottling up inside, waiting for them to burst out. You could only sit and listen, occasionally nodding once or twice.

How was it so easy for everyone else to feel pretty and confident when all you wanted to do was curl up into a ball and never leave your bed again?

Hello, my darling

I don't know why I decided to write this, but recently, I've been having a lot of feelings and insecurities going on, and if any of you would also like to comment on any insecurities you've been having, please go ahead.

Or really anything you want to comment on.

Do I really look like this …?

Improvements to my vision following the first half of cataract surgery are 99 percent positive. Colors are brighter; distances, clearer; details, more finely etched.

And think of all the time I’m saving not searching for my glasses …

I have to say, however, that my first good look in the mirror gave me pause. I immediately thought of the Lord Huron lyric: “There’s a stranger in my eyes again …”

When did all that character happen ..? Where’d all those lines and creases come from - all those chips and cracks and blemishes …? They are, I suppose, the inevitable dents and scratches of 76 years and 307 days on earth.

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