Through a Mirror Darkly

I look at myself posing in front of a long mirror, like the kind that are hung on the back of doors. I see a young skinny African American child, maybe 8 or 9 years of age, medium dark skin, hair kept short, naked except for boxer shorts and socks. I am short with small sinewy muscles typical of a child that age. I can't stand the sight of myself.

My body is weak and spindly, really an expected build for a child of that age, but in my mind, I am impossibly small and good for nothing, a complete failure, useless in every way. I wish with all my heart that I could be big and strong, tall and powerful with huge bulging muscles and chest. That way, I would be an important person in life, not this insignificant slug that is me. The emotions of longing and self loathing consume me so much I can't think.