My memory is decent. I remember standing in front of my bathroom mirror. I remember slapping my own self in the face. I remember seeing the red handprint, fingers close, spread across my face. I remember waiting for the pain to start. I remember watching the welts come up around my finger prints. I was waiting for that stinging reminder. But it never came. I was numb. Oblivious to the pain that was inflicted. All I could think bout was turning back around to my toilet, leaning over, and giving everything back. Pulling my long extensions back into a pony tail and tucking it into my shirt. Placing two sheets of toilet paper in each hand, only after lifting the padded seat, and placing my hands onto the bowl. Leaning over, and giving it all back until nothing came but blood. I needed nothing more. But, I can’t remember how it felt to be beautiful, because I have yet to get there
