To remain me is my greatest accomplishment

The dark places in my heart find no flaw in others but highlight every misshapen piece of me. They see beauty in the eyes of the broken but to look upon my own reflection is to see what can’t be mended.  

My love is extended to all but falls short when it rests upon my shoulders.

 I once told someone my heart was made of glass and this remains true. A vase of crystal shattered and repaired until the rainbows that it once cast are fragmented and distorted. 

Like Quasimoto I hide my misshapen heart behind the walls of defensiveness looking upon the world in wonder. Longing to be embraced by the day to day happenings of others. 

I watch in wonder as everyone else passes by my tower. I cannot help but day dream of all of the things that could be.

Yet somehow I do not leave this prison that was created to protect me. I don’t know how. 

While Quasimodo was born with an outward disfigurement that left him noticeably different, and his rejection was due to the vanity of others... he first experienced rejection in his family, as they could not accept him in his true form.

 I, too, was taught that the world would not accept my truest form.

 As I looked at myself through the eyes of my family I can see nothing but the unlovable girl who was accidentally created. 

I was not born with my burden on the outside, it spilled from my lips in an attempt to understand "why". 

With every question they could not answer I was granted a reminder that I was annoying and inconvenient. 

School did less to satisfy my curiosity, as I do not embrace a normal learning pattern and the behavior of other children vexed me even more.

Yet, the stigma has altered the course of my life leaving my reflection disfigured in my own eyes.

Every mirror to me reflects back a shape that others do not see. As if I am looking upon a cursed Mirror of Erised.

Unlike Harry Potter I do not see that which my heart desires most. I see that which my heart wishes to erase. 

I see, not, the beautiful exterior that is mentioned in the compliments I receive, but remnants of a life of rejection for the curiosity that marked me as different. 

This shell, with its wrinkles and scars reminds me of every soiled word that was uttered to my face. 

Where others see a beautiful smile I see missing teeth as a result of cancer. 

Where others may see the love in my heart I see the darkness that consumes my understanding of value in the eyes of others.  

My self love is not as pure as it sounds. It is a reminder to myself that when all others fail to love me I must not fail to love myself, as it opens the door to my destruction. 

I will speak of all of my inherently good qualities as if I am trying to convince you that I am worthy of your love. Yet, the echo is meant for my own ears.

I will stand in front of you preaching of self acceptance. 

I will remind you the everyone has value. 

I will tell you that your differences are your strengths. 

Yet, every moment I address you I am aware that it is me who needs to listen. 

For I am the keeper of my value and my self love is not the twisted delusion one might think it to be.  

It is a desire, that I long ago wished for on the first star of a clear night. 

"Starlight... starbright... first star, I see tonight

 I wish I may... I wish I might... have this wish, I wish tonight" 

And as I stand in front of you trying to convince you that your value is not determined by the views of others, I desperately try to hold onto the understanding that, I too, deserve to be loved as a whole. 

For, I too, am a perfectly imperfect creature with a purpose that is beyond what one person can define. 

As with all others, I was created to defy the limits of societal norms. 

Those who do not conform are cursed with ears that must hear the bitter tongue of those who do. 

Those of us who were created to shatter the mold will always find the worst parts of the worst people.

Not all of us have the strength to overcome the darkness that is thrust upon us during our travels down the slow path of time. 

So even though I do not see the beautiful creature I was created to be I can rejoice in the idea that I was always strong enough to remain true to myself.

Even as I was dipping my toes in the pools of propaganda meant to convince me that fitting in makes life more rewarding, i could not choose to comply. 

I may not like what I see in the mirror but I would not change myself for anyone. 

After all I have endured a life of hell just to remain … ME