By  -wildest

"of course i'm insecure, mrs. parkinson,"

i explain to my therapist. if i was created 

in the image of divinity, in a pursuit of 

beauty fuelled by a celestial passion; does 

that mean my self-hatred is a twisted form 

of blasphemy? will i go to hell for hating my 

high cheekbones and the acne that covers my 

dimples?

"when did you first start feeling insecure about how you look, about your eyebrow arch and the way your glasses cover your eyes which are actually quite pretty," asks mrs. parkinson.

"hm," i ponder, "around the same time i discovered girls and later felt the dire need to impress them. i watched titanic with my girl

on our second date and cursed god for not making me look like leonardo di caprio."

dysmorphia but my girl likes the way i look. 

maybe i want to look in the mirror, getting

validation from my inner critic and my 

front facing iphone camera. 

i explain this to mrs. parkinson and she tuts.

Today's prompt: Power

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