There was a time when I looked into the mirror, not to see myself, but to measure what I lacked. Height, appearance, presence — somehow, I always felt I fell short. It wasn’t something people said all the time directly, but it was there… in the silence, in comparisons, in the way attention seemed to flow more easily to others.
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| Maybe it wasn’t the mirror that was harsh… but the way I learned to look at myself. |
Growing up, it felt like there was an invisible standard everyone had to meet. The media, the people around me, even casual conversations — they all quietly shaped this idea of what it meant to be “good-looking enough.” And without realising it, I started to believe that being seen, liked, or even loved… had something to do with how I wished to meet that standard.





