I Drew on My Skin Because I Didn’t Trust My Own

I was thirteen, desperate for something that felt like control. I’d sit on my bedroom floor, sharpie in hand, tracing little symbols onto my wrist—stars, words, anything that made me feel less invisible. I told myself it was just for fun, but really, I wanted to see if I could make myself look like someone else. Someone braver, maybe. I’d layer on baby powder and hairspray, watching the lines blur and set, pretending it was permanent. My skin never felt like mine—always too plain, too soft, too easy to erase. I wanted to be marked, even if it was just for a week. I think I just wanted proof that I could leave a trace, even if it faded by morning. #SkinStory #BareFaceAnxiety #BeautyBurnout #Beauty