Dingo
Iron
- Joined
- Jul 16, 2025
- Posts
- 51
- Reputation
- 39
This all began with the idea that if I fix my face, my life would finally open up. So I worked while others rested, optimized while others lived as I slowly become someone more acceptable to look at. But nothing else changed. I still feel empty in my shell as my identity shrinks until it’s nothing more than the next fix, the next flaw to hunt. Sometimes I distance myself from people, not because I dislike them, but because I have this feeling that I’m better off alone because people don’t even try to know me for me, and they just look at the facade that I put in front with the slim hope that it pleases them, but most of the time I fail and I get left out. I’m jealous of people who live a carefree life.
I don’t even see food like I used to, all I see are numbers. Every mirror I look at, I stop, I analyze my flaws, sometimes I tear up, sometimes I cry. Endless days into calculations and adjusting lighting, angles, posture, timing, all just to cope. I face the mirror and recognize my flaws and structures, the improvements needed to be done.
But somehow the person staring back at me in the mirror feels unfamiliar, and that’s when it hit me…I didn’t rebuild myself to live, but I rebuilt myself to be less ashamed of living.
I don’t even see food like I used to, all I see are numbers. Every mirror I look at, I stop, I analyze my flaws, sometimes I tear up, sometimes I cry. Endless days into calculations and adjusting lighting, angles, posture, timing, all just to cope. I face the mirror and recognize my flaws and structures, the improvements needed to be done.
But somehow the person staring back at me in the mirror feels unfamiliar, and that’s when it hit me…I didn’t rebuild myself to live, but I rebuilt myself to be less ashamed of living.
