“They say I’m skinny”
I tell the girl in the mirror.
She is composed of
Sharp glass and sadness.
“It’s obviously a lie”
She smirks knowingly at me,
Confirming the truth.
“You are a fat, fat pig girl.”
She speaks the truth.
I swallow hard, ashamed of
All my excuses.
They’re all wrong, wrong, wrong—they must be.
“They say I might die.”
“Another lie. They all hate you.”
And of course it’s true.
Only the girl in the mirror
Knows what best for me.
She taught me the truth:
That that there is salvation in
Spots before your eyes
And the bites you didn’t take
Of your birthday cake.
People will only like you
If you wear small jeans
And your skin is very tight.
“Don’t mind what they say.”
The brittle girl smiles.
She is pale and beautiful.
Not like me at all.