Too Close

We all look at ourselves too closely. We lean toward mirrors and meticulously inspect every wrinkle, every pore, until the flaws are all we can see, until our faces and our bodies no longer make sense to us. We pick ourselves apart one piece at a time hoping desperately to exchange each part for one of another size, another shape, another color. We walk through our day bartering with those around us, silently begging them to trade us their lips, their eyes, their flat stomachs, never knowing that at the very same time they are frantically searching for someone to give them bigger breasts, thicker hair, or longer legs. Because you see, it's easy to look perfect from a distance. We view others from across streets, across rooms, or across tables and wonder how it is that they mange to be so beautiful. But we seldom get the chance to see ourselves from far away. We are so focused on every little detail that we barely even know what we look like as a whole person. Every once in a while, I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror that I didn't know was there and for just a moment I think "Who is that? She's pretty." Then I look closer and realize that it's the same girl with the big nose, and the bad skin, and the stomach that always sticks out just a little, no matter how many sit-ups she does. We look at ourselves too damn closely. If we could just take a few steps back, maybe we could all see how beautiful we are. But we can't, because we are all flawed structures built for the specific purpose of slowly tearing ourselves down. It's what we do. It's all we've ever known.

^This picture means it's a poem, just in case you forgot.