I'm flawed, but you can call me Meg

She wears her hair in curly pigtails
And doesn’t mind the sloppiness.
She goes days without washing it,
Embracing the accumulated grit from a hard slogged week.

She refills her favorite mug as many times as possible
With the coffee that fuels her overall stamina.
As a result of this tragic caffeine dependency,
Her teeth are permanently stained in certain spots.

She bites her fingernails compulsively
When life’s stresses get particularly unpleasant.
She leaves them natural- unpolished-
Because it chips off anyway,
So why bother?

Her eyebrows slowly but surely merge
After months of letting them go.
Plucking and grooming takes too much time-
Time that she would rather not sacrifice
For superficial desires.

When she’s at home, she’s in scrubs-
The same outfit every night.
It’s a source of comfort that she anticipates
After the effort to primp for a job
She feels indifferent about.

She knows she’s odd;
Totally aware of her quirks.
They used to bother her.
But not anymore.
They used to haunt her.
Until she chose to think otherwise.

She knows she’s odd,
And she doesn’t much mind.
Being imperfect
Is perfectly fine.