Like I do usually, I get up early in the morning and terribly put my hands on my chest
Something in my chest makes me so sick. It push my pulmo and take my breath away like I lose a whole life. I walk to the mirror and see the picture. Why the person in the mirror looks so ugly day by day. See, her cheek, her lips, and her eyes. Maybe Leonardo Da Vinci never wants to paint someone like her. Or maybe Michaelangelo never wants to make a statue based on her. She's too ugly, more that Betty La Fea or someone else who you think uglier.
And then I realize that it's me. Someone in the mirror is me.
I walk to the bathroom and pretend that i don't see anything in the mirror
I see my scar in my hands. Scar that I've made yesterday using a pencil. the sharp one
I want to know what it feels. Just flat or maybe so harmful?
I smile and touch my scar. This is how life feels. Sounds good but so harmful. No justice
Then I bite my lips. Close my eyes and know,
"Love is the reason why I did this, it influenced my life"
And now I close a facebook page and feel so sick. Have you ever know what I feel inside, outside while I was smiling?