Shattered Reflections: A Journey Through Self-Image and Childhood Wounds

 

Never in my life have I imagined sitting in front of a mirror, looking at myself with hatred and disgust. Never in my life have I imagined hearing those words coming out of her mouth. Never in my life have I imagined that this is how it will end. And never ever in my life have I imagined that in my later years, her words would be the last thing to run in my head.

I’ve never received as many compliments in my entire life as I did this year. I would hang out with my classmates, and one of them would compliment me: “Your hair looks beautiful,” “Your outfit is gorgeous,” or “You look so cute.” I would blush, smile a little, and say thank you, but I never believed those words.

Anytime I see a girl walking down the streets, I look at her intently and wonder why couldn’t I be like her? Hair so long it reaches her hips, soft as silk, and shiny as the first rays of sunshine. A face crafted by God himself to showcase the beauty residing in this universe, a smile that could melt a diamond, and eyes like the Amazon forest, where you would get lost and never come back.

I always wished to be like her, but I will never be her. She is everything, and I am something, someone, but nobody important.

Little me always thought she was less than the other girls, my rough hair, big forehead, huge nose, crooked teeth, and dark complexity. My dark skin, my prettiest trait, or my biggest enemy?

When I opened my eyes to this world, the last thing that ran through my head was my color, I never gave it much attention, never really cared, until her. She was my friend, my only friend, my best friend, but I was not hers. She was loved by everyone, and I was loved by a few, however, I did not let that crush the beautiful connection that we created between us. She might have had many friends, but she still made time for me. While I sat by myself lost in my thoughts, she would look back at me and give me a little wave. That was our sign, “Wait for me I’ll be with you in a minute”, and she always came.

Until one day, someone new joined, the hangouts became silent, the waves of waiting turned into waves of hello and goodbye, and the laughing with me became the laughing about me. I did not understand it at first, maybe she felt tired today, maybe she was just taking a little longer than usual, maybe someone else was standing behind me, but there was no one behind me. It was just me. Only me.

And the day has come, the day that my bottled insecurities will explode, the day they will be confirmed, the day I will realize that they were true. “Play with me, come on it's been a long time”, I was ecstatic seeing my friend approach me so I jumped at the chance of pulling her to our favorite game. I saw her the other day playing it with that girl, but it is okay because we were better at it together. “No, you’re weird and different. I’ve always wondered why you look like that, your hair, your face, your,” she stops and runs her finger down my arm and frowns, i knew then what it was, and I wish I didn’t.

Here I am now, twelve years later sitting with my boyfriend in a cafe, enjoying our date, when I notice something. His eyes sneaky but still obvious, sliding to the girl two tables over, and it was her. HER. THE girl. The one.

As I sit there watching my boyfriend checking her out, it is finally confirmed that it will never be me, But it will always be her.