I did some free-writing

I just want to be pretty again.
I don't need your pity
And I wouldn't want it if I had it.
I don't need your empty compliments
They're not what I'm asking for.
I'm sick of craving photoshop
To make an illusion of what I want to be.
I no longer want to compare myself
To the two that used to look up to me.
Now I look down to them
To their confidence, their stamina,
Their skill, and their uncanny way
Of always looking polished.
I joke about the homeless look
But really I don't know
What else I can do, what else I can wear.
I thought I got over this
Materialistic and Self-conscious Megan
When I walked across that stage
at 17, I was to never look back.
Now I'm looking in every reflection
And flinching at the result.
When you're loved, aren't you supposed to
Feel renewed and refreshed,
And believe it when they tell you
You're beautiful?
Maybe it's the day to day gray
And snow and sleet and never ending
Feeling that you're going to freeze
To death.
Maybe all I need is a ray of sunshine,
some heat on my face,
Some flowers on the trees,
And driving with the windows down.
But is it too easy to blame it all
On the weather?
Why won't my mind let it all be ok?
Why can't I accept the fact that one day
My hair will grow and my skin will clear?
Maybe when I hit 30 I'll be fine.
Maybe then it will be my time.