I Hate That Guy In My MirrorI hate that messy, shaggy, pudgy, broad shouldered **** dragger in my mirror. Each and every time we pass we lock eyes and I just want to snap him over my knee. Thing is, whenever I look down at that knee, I remember that we have the same knees, same hair, same thing in our pants.
It makes me want to curl up in a corner and die.
I wish that when I passed the mirror and smiled, the woman I see behind my eyes would smile back at me. I wish that when I hugged myself in that corner, it was slender shoulders that my arms pressed in around.
I wish I was the person I feel like inside.