I used to think it was just me.
Just a bad photo. A strange angle. A blemish I couldn’t stop staring at. I’d tell myself to move on, that it wasn’t a big deal but it always grew into something bigger.
Then it wasn’t just a mirror, it was every reflective surface. Every glance, every photo, every video I deleted before posting. I became my own worst observer, dissecting parts of myself that no one else noticed. And even if they did, they didn’t understand why it consumed me, why it controlled my choices, and why I stayed home instead of showing up.