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Writer's picturebea

i'm okay-looking

when i take nudes, i don’t tend to include my face. it’s purely out of habit, because i feel a level of distance from my body still. although it’s mine, it feels so unfamiliar with a sense of self because i’m still on the cusp of being an adult. everything is still so unusual because it wasn’t so long ago that i was a child. the woman’s body that i have now is something i perceive in relation to an idea, a concept of womanhood that i don’t feel like i actually adhere to yet.

my face on the other hand is very much mine. i’ve always had this absolute asymmetry. i used to find it sad, and now i like it very much. i like my smile because it’s ugly in an interesting way. i like my nose because it balances out my face. i like my eyes because they’re dark like my hair. i feel more connected to my face because it’s uglier, which feels more honest. my body is quite typically attractive, so it feels bland at times.

looking a mirror is strange because you’re having to associate that flipped version of things with the you that people see. sometimes i take videos of myself moving because i’m trying to understand how it looks when i move. i’m not sure why it’s become something that matters - this outside perception of yourself. it would probably be better if i didn’t wonder how my posture looks from the outside.

lately, when i’ve written poems off the cuff, i’ve been stuck on these motif of rawness. this idea of peeling off or scraping off layers of the self to understand and feel this pure, raw, real thing underneath. i feel raw when i cut my nails short and pull my wet hair back. i’m definitely in a phase at the moment of trying to be raw, not that i’m really sure what that means yet.

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