I sit in my old blue room,
it's walls blackened with
the smoke of a failed furnace.
Reflecting on the first time I felt self-conscious.
Another's reaction to my enjoyment,
at an unjust age of four.
Who taught me embarrassment,
or "out of" self-awareness?
An intense emotion for a toddler to address.
How impressive it's become;
To hear the thought of each time
I nit-picked at each stitch of myself.
To find myself sewing each seam back up,
new and improved.
Locked up, wondering how I turned into
a messy pile of fabric in the first place.
Looking back at a once body-conscious self.
The images in front of my eyes,
happen to be much different from
what I once saw in myself.
A self-taught lesson in self-confidence;
If you've any of it in you to begin with,
abstain from asking for an outsider's opinion.
It can only result in torn fabric,
and loose threads laying over your life.
A testament to today,
kills the idiocy of yesterday.
Depression may pile on the pounds,
and it's weight isn't even literal.
It takes a full separation of self,
to make you see.
Certain people taught you how to self-loathe,
and it can be the hardest lesson to unlearn.
Certain people only know
how to project themselves on to you,
and they're out of their minds for doing so.
