I already know

Don’t ever tell me what I already know. Don’t tell me with your eyes, your hands, or your thoughts, because I already know. Please don’t tell me with your words, especially not your harming, dangerous words that cut like knifes into my wounds. Don’t tell me the things I already know about me.

I already know where every parcel of fat is inside of my legs, my stomach, my arms.

I already know that my nose makes my face look awkward from the side.

I already know that when I wake up I sometimes look like Shaun White
I already know that my hair can’t be tamed most days because of its frizz.

I already know where the red spots on my face lay.

I already know that I don’t know a whole lot.

I already know that I’m not the prettiest.

I already know that I’m not good at math and I won’t ever be.

I already know that my skin is too white, and it’s not a pretty white.

I already know my skin goes blotchy and sometimes has red spots.

I already know that my body isn’t strong.

I already know that I am insecure and I already know that you won’t help if you say all these things in any form to disembark me from happiness for even just a short while.

Think about how much I already have thought about what you could be about to say.