What I See in the Mirror

Please forgive the bad quality of my window photo, but its the best I could do.

Guys, this post is poem is long. But its my heart right now. I wasn't sure even sure about posting it, then a very dear friend said I should, so here it is.

I look in the mirror

Do I really like what I see?

No, not at all.

I don’t look like what I had always imagined

I don’t look like any of the other beautiful girls I love.

Oh, people say I’m beautiful

Friends post about how I am perfect just how I am

But they aren’t me

They can’t know

The disappointment I feel

Every time I look in the mirror.

Why did I have to turn out like this?

When there are so many girls that turned out perfectly?

Why was I the one that got cursed with this?

People tell me it’s just fine.

But they are all perfect.

They don’t know what it’s like

To look in the mirror and see

Irreversible mistakes

Things out of my control

Things I never would have chosen

Things that will take years to get rid of

But I’ll never be like those perfect size 0-4’s.

I simply cannot be that.

It’s not how I was built.

It seems unfair

None of my friends look like me

And I still hate what I see

But maybe, just maybe

God made me to be something different

Maybe there’s a reason I was made this way.

Maybe.

Maybe this thing I hate

Was God’s perfection for me.

I still feel hatred towards it

But, have I asked Him to help me

Let that hatred go and actually do something?

Maybe I should just stop hating it and learn to live the way God wants me to

Because how am I going to be different from the world

If I hate the same thing everyone else does?

Shouldn’t I hate

Sin

Poverty

And disobedience

And not myself?

If I really believe

That God made me;

I should know

That He made me

Perfectly

Just how he meant to

For a reason

To fit into His plan

Priceless

How can I look at what God made, and hate it?

How can I, claiming to be a child of God, hate one of His children?

How can I look at myself and say I’m not good enough?

When God made me

With His own hands

With His plan in mind

With love and tenderness

With joy

Knowing that

He would never make

Another person

Just like me

And He knew

There was a reason for everything

That I call a flaw

He knew he would never make two people alike

Because we weren’t meant to be who we wanted to be

We were meant to be what He wanted us to be

So maybe

Just maybe

I can learn to

Love the ‘imperfections’

The things I can’t change.

And who am I

To question God?

Because, He’s told me

I

Am

Priceless

And I believe Him. 

Sometimes, it doesn't even help to have people say you're fine the way you are, you have to decide for yourself. Have you ever had a moment like that?