i feel like i have no idea what i look like. small bits of me are these terrible puzzle pieces i use to make a cubist painting of what i could be. sometimes in the mirror i see a girl worth loving, but in pictures i see: arms, legs, nose, body. one good picture out of two hundred and forty. i felt like i looked nice this morning. i see myself in plus/minus, good hair but bad skin, crooked teeth but nice eyes, fat arms chubby body good sense of humor at least if they get past the wide forehead and every other ugly piece. i don’t know. once in a while out of the corner of my eye i see myself and i’m startled because i look nothing like what i thought i did. but then the moment shifts and i become pieces again.