The world has shaped a certain image for how people should be in order to be accepted. Of course this image changes from one person to another due to the different mentalities that roam this earth. However, being “pretty” has become a sort of requirement, and according to society it has its own set of requirements including your physical presence. Precisely, your weight. This particular requirement impels people to look down on others, or rather themselves. Allow me to just clarify something, body shaming is not acceptable no matter what and who addresses it.
Personally, I have both lived and witnessed the true effects of society’s pressure based upon obtaining this flawless fictional image. Let me tell you something world, this path – the one you drive us to take – is a dark one with a haunting voice; a voice that whispers in our ears, forcing us to divert our desires and direct them all at it. It lures us into the shadows of its wings convincing us that the only way to break free from under its reigns is to starve. We become its slaves, allowing it to rule our lives. It gives us the arrows of hate that we shoot into our own hearts. Yet, we are too blind to see that its killing us. We are too engrossed in the need to break free and have the world finally grant us the worthiness of love, to rebel against it. For it becomes our only hope. Despite the agonizing nights we spend shedding tears over the hunger that prevails us, we give in to the voice. We give in to our lord. As the weight starts dropping, our master sits on his throne congratulating our success demanding more. He says that it makes us prettier, even a bit more lovable. So we bow to him offering all we have left of us. As the numbers decrease, and parts of us die, our hearts create black roses to place upon their graves. Only to have our master crave more of our agony, for if he is to live another day and taunt another person he must end us. So we lay starving in an ordeal commenced by society’s ideal image seeking the promised freedom, love, and acceptance.
To all those who have become pawns of the voice’s wickedness and society’s fictitious image – do not allow the voice to control you. The voice, the one we claim to be our master, is a devil. A devil that feeds on our cries and finds pleasure in watching us pick ourselves apart. Our lord, the one we’ve relinquished ourselves to, is a liar. For the world imposed an image out of its own fear of being judged. The acceptance we crave, can only be bestowed upon us by the simplest act of self-love. For you are your own master, and the only one truly worthy of your love is yourself.