Injections of the Heart by Jenny O’Connell

Why don’t I look like her?

Why don’t I look like him?

Am I still beautiful?

Am I still beautiful if my skin is red and blotchy?

Am I still beautiful if my lips get chapped, or if my nose is red?

Am I still beautiful if I slouch and my skin falls in ways that don’t look like the Angels on T.V?

Am I still beautiful if my skin is cracked and my teeth get stained from the carbs that I consume out of stress? 

Am I still beautiful If… 

My Head Aches 

Aches with the insecurity of the eyes that could look my way. 

Aches with the sadness of the reality of nothingness that occurs when no one does. 

Appreciate me but don’t objectify me 

Notice me but don’t make me feel watched. 

And through receiving both in my time, though more negatives than anything but-

Unfortunately, I still feel empty 

I feel empty because my head is consumed with ways to change my expressions 

I feel empty because my breath leaves me any time I try to exercise. 

I feel empty because my stomach hasn’t been able to consume a full meal without shame and discomfort in four years. 

I feel empty because I’m trying to feel beautiful.

Will I be beautiful?

Will I be beautiful if I cover up my acne and red skin with makeup?

Will I be Beautiful  If I polish my lips in a way where they don’t look small and awkward on my face? 

Will I be beautiful if I straighten my posture, and puff out my chest,  and consume fewer calories than the day before? 

Will I be beautiful if I take the needles of society and inject them into my skin, to gloss over the cracks;

Will I be beautiful if I paint my teeth white and paint a smile on there too, just to pretend my heart doesn’t strain from the pressure of the clothes sucking my fat in, and the cosmetics keeping my face on, and the stitches keeping my ears in place, and the scars that I pretend don’t exist so I Can be Beautiful too. 

Will I be beautiful if… 

Will I Be Beautiful If…

Will I be beautiful? 

When Will I Be beautiful?

Was it enough? 

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