twig
looking in the mirror, sometimes i hate who i see.
i hate that i can see every vertebrate through my shirt and how they don’t line up right.
i hate that i can feel every piece of my knee just by putting my hand there.
the blue veins that pop up over the bones on my freakishly thin hands.
“i wish i had that problem” some tell me.
“it can’t be that hard to fix though” others say.
“that’s invalidating people who do struggle” even more scold.
but i struggle too.
and i struggled before in the way you want me to.
would my struggle be enough if i died from it?
would you even care if i did?
no.
because apparently hating the way you appear is only okay if you’re not built like a twig.
and i used to think so too.
so i know what you think.
you want to be skinny so you tell me i’m not allowed to hate myself for it.
but what you don’t realize is you want to be skinny, not twiggy
because nobody likes someone who’s twiggy.
and nobody likes being twiggy either.
