Mag Learns Life

Hold up a mirror.

As Taylor Swift laments in “loml”, her biggest heartbreak is also her greatest love. For many people, especially at my age, heartbreak normally comes from romance. But before you ever love someone else, you first grow up learning how to love yourself. Before I came to college, I was someone who could love and be loved. I had spent my senior year becoming the best version of myself, learning what suited me and changing what didn’t. During senior year I became committed to making myself look and feel the healthiest I could be. By April I was literally glowing inside and out. I remember when I stopped wearing any makeup. I remember styling my hair with the salty ocean instead a hair tool. I remember feeling content with who I was. But mostly I remember the life that was burning inside me. Golden was skin and my aura, emulating my happiness like the sun’s rays. Now when I stare at myself, I can’t see any color. I’m sort of like a ghost. In the mirror I meet red eyes. I don’t recognize my reflection. In pictures I feel like a fraud; dressing myself up but feeling naked, like I’m wearing someone else’s skin. It hit me the most when I notice I stopped doing the things that made me who I am. What I look like is only half of who I am, and I lost the whole thing. College is meant to be the door to opportunities and in small ways it is. But I still feel that it took most of mine away. The girl who used to read for hours hasn’t finished a book in months. The girl who used to walk at sunset barely sees the sun. There are no beaches. I can’t skate on the unpaved sidewalks. I have no kitchen to make my favorite snacks. I’m not able to do stage crew or play the drums or sleep at night. The things that make me me don’t exist here. In quiet moments where I can partially return to myself, I feel crushed by the weight of it being a momentary visit by someone I used to be. I almost feel mad at myself for lying, promising that college would make me better. As I force my smiles in front of others, I can’t help but feel jealous that theirs are genuine. Everyone else is exactly who they dream of being. So why have I been robbed of myself? It’s the worst when I see who I used to be. Pictures of good memories slap me in the face knowing that I lost her. She is the greatest loss of my life. And I really want her to come back. I want to love myself again.