just a little jaded.

There are still parts of myself that I recognise.
The swinging hips that are strong and confident, knowing where they belong.
The straight, black hair that hides strands of wisdom.
The hands that consist of anxiety-bitten nails but always soft and warm to hold.
The ankle-less calves I’ve never quite liked, but have come to call my own.
The angular jaw that is unmistakably me, something I got from my dad.

Then, there are parts that I don’t.
Darker under-eye circles that are destined to layer on top of each other, eyes heavily laced with fatigue, lips that found a way to stay shut even when my mind was a pounding jackhammer, a hunched back, scars that are adding on daily to my legs from being picked out of anxiety and boredom.

Be back soon. Promise.