Who is that in the photo?

Hair a mess,

Barefoot dirty feet,

Polka dots on stripes.

I don’t even recognize her.

The small little girl with freckles

Lit up with the brightest smile.

Her only worry being what doll she’ll choose that day

Oh, it’s me.

The little girl who told her parents,

“I’ll never get the teenage attitude.” she told her parents

But couldn’t keep her promises

I am that little girl

but now nearly an adult.

I look at my younger self and ask,

Would you be proud of me?

As the young girl studies her new version

She understands that she’s not the same.

The little girl who had dirt on her face in the photo

Is the same girl who cakes makeup on today.

My new self’s smile is foreign.

My mornings are spent trying to perfect myself,

And eyes fixed on myself in the mirror,

Rather than her perfect princess books

My little girl

Looks at her new self again.

And watches her get trapped into her own toxic habits,

And leaving her wholesome little girl behind