You feel insecure
I can see it in your eyes
you look into the mirror
and you ask yourself why?
You don’t see a beauty
but a monster wearing a veil
hiding behind curtains
because you’re too afraid to fail
You don’t see your victories
or all those battles you’ve won
but you see that little flaw
and you say you’re done
You’ve hidden your smiles
beneath your frowns and complains
you touch the mirror
but then you jolt away
You want to be loved
so you look for comfort in someone else
how could anyone fall in love with you
when you don’t love yourself
You’re comparing your road and journey
to those people you see on tv
why don’t you look at your own path
because change always begins with ‘me’
You only see tears rolling down your cheeks
to the point that you’ve forgotten how to smile
you see those fit models
with their perfect skin and extravagant life styles
You feel useless
you use pen names, so you could hide
love you don’t have to look pretty
for your soul to shine
I know the person in the mirror
isn’t exactly what you wanted to be
so you close your eyes
and you pretend not to see
You’re so scared of losing
and taking the wrong step
you leave the battle field
and then you hide in regret
You scream and shout
and then you start to argue
you become the oppressor
to the person staring back at you
Your heart is aching
because you don’t know what to do
making a choice is hard
I know, I’ve been there too
I need you to look into the mirror
and open your eyes
say ‘fuck it all
it’s my turn to rise.’
Photo by Min An from PexelsCopy
The most damaging wars are the ones we fight with ourselves. When our mind transforms into a battlefield and our heart becomes a no-go zone. It’s like we’re torn between shooting emotions, bombarded with sentiments. We’re ripped between reasons, opinions, and facts. And that is the moment where we lose all sense of what is right and what is wrong. It is in that little time space where either everything makes perfect sense or the things that did make sense become undecipherable. We become so captivated in our own thoughts that everything happening just seems like a blur. In that instance what should we trust- our instincts, gut, heart or that tiny slit in our brain magnifying every possible threat there is to existence.
But why is it that this war we’re fighting is leading us nowhere?
Why is it so hard to understand that this self-damage is incurable?
Maybe because we’re already destroyed, that no damage can cause us more pain then what we’ve been through. Like we’re about to explode. These are the types of sparks that cause flames within. But in that case, which fire should we put out first. The one inside of us or the one outside.
Wars are never easy to fight. Because they sketch their marks all over. Whether they’re fought on land or inside our head. But
I guess we’re all soldiers placed in different battlefields with different weapons.
The worst part is that I’m unprepared for this war and I’m scared. If I don’t have an enemy then why does everything around me feel like a threat? I have no weapons yet here I am fighting with my bare hands.
Will I win?
Do I deserve to win?
Why does failing feel like a better option? Maybe because I’m afraid to rise. I’m afraid of whatever awaits on the other end of the battlefield. What if it’s a bigger storm, a bigger war, a bigger threat?
But just because you didn’t win doesn’t mean you lost. Why can’t you just be in the middle? Establish a cease-fire and maybe stay there. I’m not saying that losing is good but why does it have to be so bad.
Sometimes threat does not come to me holding a sword. She comes to me with a pretty smile, draped in poisonous flowers that smell like Eden. She comes to me holding a mirror, and the threat I see looks exactly like me. And that is the moment where I don’t know what to do. Attack myself? Or wait for her to attack me? Either way the outcome will leave me damaged and there is nothing I can do.
It’s like I have no choice. Is the war worth fighting? Is it better to be safe and lose; or win and be completely broken? Why does victory have to come dressed in blood? Why can’t it shine like the first light of day?