Missing My Confidence

Just got yelled at by some hollow eyed librarian in a tangerine sweater but all I can think about is how comfortable these sweat pants are and how I shouldn’t have eaten that oversized chocolate chip cookie on the way to class. The hallways were crowded and I shoved bite after bite of sugary sweetness into eager lips because my best friend wasn’t there to laugh at and my stomach’s been growling all day. In the silence of American Government it cried out for food while we watched Mark Mallory try to pitch a baseball. I told it to be quiet and crossed my arms over the giant Buddha on my chest but the pleading continued and when the bell finally rang for lunch I bolted as fast as these soft pink boots would take me down two flights of stairs and into the cafeteria. I tried to tell myself not to eat it but I did, before I knew it I had chocolate smeared on the edges of my candy pink lips and an empty Otis Spunkemeyer wrapper crumpled in my hands. Damnit damnit damnit. No, I am not one of those girls who weighs herself each night and spends her afternoons with her head in the toilet. My happiness does not lie upon a scale or within a size 2 pair of jeans. I am not killing myself to be beautiful but my mirror is not the friend it used to be. It does not greet me on those early high school mornings with a smile and a wink. It does not whisper quiet affirmations on the days when my phone never rings and this house seems worlds away from reality. I used to find solace in that blonde haired reflection but my gym membership is expired and I eat raisonettes for breakfast. I stopped tanning because I was losing myself to a bronzed stranger and stood out too much in winter. Now my face is dull and lifeless and I swear if you stare long enough you’ll see your eyes in these porcelain cheeks. The complaining must stop because I’m missing my confidence far too much. I forgot how beautiful I was when he traded me in for someone else but I need to remember so that these sunny fall days are not wasted on an insecure seventeen year old with a camera in her hand.
And oh, that camera is in my hand. Every day I’m snapping pictures of the world only I can see. Downloading them so that-if only for an instant- everyone can bear witness to the beauty that overwhelms me. They can realize how gorgeous the specks of gold are in their eyes or find peace within the way the sun hits the wet pavement on dewy afternoons. The only thing keeping me grounded in this cyclone of change are these pictures and the people posing for them. I meditate as I snap shot after shot and by the time their cheeks are sore with smiling I have found my center again. I have found my Om. I have forgotten you. I have forgotten it all.