Reflection. Reflecting me. Reflecting my haunts. Reflecting my haunting insecurities. My bathroom mirror, my closet mirror, public mirrors, ponds, lakes, oceans, everything. They all show me the same thing. They all show me my scars. Inside and out. They all show me my marks. Skin and hair. They all show me my bumps. Above and below. I hate them. I hate them all... but do I have to? My acne scars, my heartaches, my freckles, my split ends, my bug bites, my boney joints. If I could, I would love them. Every bit of them. But I can't. My friends and my family can. But I can't. Even my boyfriend can. But I just can't. But maybe I can. Maybe, just maybe I can. Maybe, if I try. Maybe, if I try really, really hard, I could see what they see in me. What he sees in me. I hope that someday, I can see what he sees. What he sees when he looks at me with his enchanting eyes. When he smirks at me with his alluring smile. When he hugs me with his comforting arms. I hope that someday, someday soon, that I can see the beautiful girl he sees. Reflection. Reflecting me. Reflecting my beauty. Reflecting my beautiful soundness.