The girl in the mirror blinks at the same time as me.

She has the same thick ratty brown hair,

the same scars on her knees,

the same look in her dark almost-black eyes

The same dimples when she smiles

The same crease lines when she frowns

The girl in the mirror examines her stretch marks and scars

She looks at a couple big freckles

She stares at the acne on her face

She looks at the hair on her arms and legs and face

The girl in the mirror cries as I cry

She wipes at the tears welling up in her eyes, rubbing them vigorously

The girl in the mirror looks at her legs.

Too fat, too short, too muscular, not skinny enough

She looks at her face

Too circular, too long, not pretty enough

She looks into her own eyes

Too small, too dark, not blue or green or hazel, amber, or grey

She looks at her arms, at her back

too thin, too fat, not strong enough

She looks at her butt

Too big, too small, not big enough but too small simultaneously

She looks at her stomach

Too fat, too soft, toned but too toned, not toned enough

She looks at her hair

too long, too wavy, not straight enough, not blonde enough

Enough

Not enough

not enough

not enough

Never enough

The girl in the mirror pulls herself together and forces a smile on her face

She’s always with me