Member-only story
More Polished, Less Self
Their eyes were fixated at one particular area of my face. I knew what they were thinking. They didn’t have to say it. Ever since I was little, it was the center of other people’s attention.
Every time I looked in the mirror, it was there staring back at me. I hated it, because it was all that other people see.
It was the first impression that everyone gets of me. All it takes is just one blemish, deviation, or misstep to be criticized or frowned upon.
It distracts others from the core of who I am as a human being.
Their judgment is all that I see and hear. The pity, disappointment, or disapproval for deviating from perfection or what is conventionally acceptable.
I wasn’t always this way, constantly feeling self-conscious and self-loath.
When I was four, I used to be carefree, coloring outside the lines with my favorite crayon and creating a messy and imperfect drawing.
