pocked poppy red

“emily anne, who is driving me to swimming?”

“no clue”

“could i drive?”

“sure, why not”

“i would just need your license” she responds in a completely serious tone, as if that was the only hurdle to jump in her other wise seamless plan. 

“you don’t look anything like me” i responded

“i could just draw red dots on my face”

i was crushed. maintained a strong appearance and said.

“remember it’s not nice to talk about peoples red dots, it hurts some peoples feelings”

i hit puberty around the same time as my friends. but instead of shooting out some stellar knockers, my cruel cruel body decided to place the emotional turmoil of acne upon my thirteen year old face. ever since then i have had acne. 

ten years. 

i have smeared cream on my face that was so toxic it bleached my bedsheets and pajamas, i started taking birth control at fourteen to counter the dots, i have had my face sandblasted. i have used face masks, peels, other pills, and even went on acutane; complete with monthly blood tests and close observation to make sure it wasn’t making me severely depressed or even suicidal, which is a frequent side effect. the longest my skin has been clear for, was about ten months following the completion of my acutane treatment. which happened to coincide perfectly which my trip. but soon after i got back home...WABAMO it was back. in full force.

i look at the perfect skin. the inside of my forearm, behind my ear, on my collarbone, on my ribcage. i look at it and wish it could be the skin on my face instead. clear and white.
every morning i wake up and go into the washroom. while on my walk there, i start to shimmy down my underwear while squinting my eyes to adjust to the light, or sometimes walking blindly in the dark. lifting my legs to exaggerated heights, making sure not to trip. i pivot and plonk down on the toilet. pee. wipe - front to back. get up, turn to sink. and while washing my hands i look into the mirror. i stare at my skin. looking at what new face i have today. tilt my head to the left. what new torment will i deal with today. turn my face to the right. what will people see when they look at me today? 

i wear my biggest insecurity on my face.