You know what gets me sometimes?
It’s when someone’s decent enough
to smile my way,
like I’m not just another shadow
passing by.

I’ve carried this self-loathing so long,
it feels like home.
It’s easier to believe the lies
I’ve been feeding myself—
you’re nothing, you’re less, you’re a ghost
in your own skin.

So when someone’s kind,
doesn’t shove me aside,
I’m suspicious.
My first thought is,
“Why?”

What’s the game here?
Did I somehow clean up nice?
Do I look less like
whatever the hell I think I see
in the mirror?

But here’s the kicker—
sometimes,
there’s no trick,
no angle,
no punchline waiting to drop.

It’s just me,
stuck in my own head,
trying to find cracks
where there aren’t any.

Maybe the real mess
isn’t in the mirror—
it’s the one I keep carrying around
like a badge.

© reddragonfly