do i know you?

Do I know you?
This thing staring back at me through the mirror, standing there looking at me with disgust? Do I know you? Do I know this thing looking at me from a far away village, hands wrapped around her stomach ring to tell me that I am fat? Do I know why this girl is so helpless in ever way? Do I know why this girl is crying ever time the words “my boyfriend” is said and she is not the one to be saying them? This girl with such beauty and grace is standing there crying and wondering if she knows me. I am the part of this person where I am not afraid of what I have to offer. I am part of this person that stands up to some one for our friends. But she is the part of the person that sits down and cries when someone is yelling at her. So do I really know this person? Or is she part of this person with 48 double d’s and hazel green eyes and the most beautiful personality? I don’t know any more.