the truth

i have this tenuous relationship with beauty.
sometimes i grasp it and other times, it grasps me.
and in those times, when i play the slave, i sink.
i have not felt beautiful as of late.

i approach this subject with absolute caution
like a cat approaching it's prey.
steadily, sneakily and with a confidence that proves i have been here before.

aye, i have.

people assume that if i say these words

i feel fat

that i must be irrational.
i must be capable of harming myself.
i must suffer from distortion.

none of this is true.

i feel fat
i am aware that i am not fat.
but that does not mean that i cannot feel fat.
the body and the mind are different entities that try to work as one.
some days mine try very hard.

and when i say these words,
i do not want rebuttals. i do not believe them.
i do not want frustration. i am frustrated too.
i do not want recognition, really.
i just want them said.

i just want people to know why i am here but elsewhere simultaneously.
i just want someone to know that some mornings it is hard to get out of bed.
but that i do it anyway.

in these times, i reach out and grab a book.
a book about women, a book that praises beauty in all of it's forms.
there is a paragraph that never fails to pick me back up.
i read it.

and then i read it again.
and hope with everything i have left, that tomorrow will be better.