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Broken Images by Mykenzie Burnett
Every waking moment, I wonder
how I look.
The image in my brain
has been
the same since 2016.
One word rings true: fat.
I wonder if
people my age know how it feels
to not know what you look like.
I’m scared
about why I don’t know what I look like.
I love food.
Specifically tacos, pasta, and carbs galore.
Diets are scary to me,
all they bring is hunger.
A calorie is a unit of energy. Crying
burns calories.
I hate social media
for what it has done to my mind.
Being told you’re pretty doesn’t make you feel pretty.
Unknowing
is my state of consciousness.
I sleep in my shirts still from 2005.
2XL Cowboys T-shirt
Fruit of the Loom sweatpants.
I miss being warm all of the time, now
I find myself often being cold.
What do boys see?
The first thing I see is the number on the scale.
Personality can cover up anything.
Being angry is easy.
Judging those around you does not make you bad,
it makes you human.
Am I going to Hell for having those thoughts?
Constant
Internal
Contradiction.
Every body is a shape.
Apple, Pear, Strawberry.
Women who are plus-size models are seen as brave.
Why?
What even is plus size?
Normal doesn’t exist in this world.
Social anxiety stems from being afraid
of society.
One meal a day is not going to fix you.
Watching others struggle
with the same things as you hurts.
Being unable to help them hurts more.
One cannot find self-love if they don’t know themself.
Every waking moment, I wonder how
I look.
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