I stand before the mirror and after what seems like an eternity I pull myself away. My face is red and raw from picking. I don’t know what I hope to accomplish each night, to squeeze my imperfections out? No one can see the mess that I see. Turning each tiny spot into a bullseye target for self loathing because another night has come and gone and once again I couldn’t stop myself. I am so sorry, my beautiful body, I promise I am fighting to stop before the scars form.
megaomega, writing prompt #69: Write a letter apologizing to your body for any hatred and ingratitude you may have expressed. (via wnq-writers)












