I was at war with myself for a long time,
Hated myself from head to toe,
A stranger in my own skin,
A voice in my head whispering, "No."
I counted my flaws like tally marks,
Each scar, each silence, a battlefield lost.
Tore at my own reflection,
As if the cracks in the glass were my own fault.
I spoke in apologies I never owed,
Wore my guilt like second skin.
Screamed without sound, fought without fists—
The war waged only from within.
But tell me, how long can a battle last
Before the body caves, the heart collapses?
When does the enemy surrender,
If the enemy is myself?
I do not have the answer yet.
But I have this:
A truce, a breath, a single step—
Not forward, not backward, but simply being.
For the first time, not at war.
Not at peace.
But alive.