Writing about “Myself”

Am I ugly? Disgusting? Broken? Perhaps so.

Sometimes I’m not sure what to believe.

I can’t see the beauty that people see, yet I am to believe it.

My voice feels so deep and and foreign, however I am aware of it’s melodic effect.

It’s strange to hate yet be so loved for the qualities I do not desire.

That is why sometimes when I hear someone compliment those very features, it stings a little to never truly understand.

I don’t love myself and perhaps I may never feel like “myself” as I understood it

But I am unique, I am special, and I have learned to atleast appreciate who I am.