Twelve

 

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Anonymous,

 

Who knew you could ever live in a world so perfect. 

I mean cruel. 

Because from day one we are taught that everything is amazing, the world is yours, take it on with all your might, what ever you may do. You have freedom; do whatever you want. 

The grass is always green everywhere you go, but the grass that I walk on is as dead as I wish I was, because someone made me feel that way.

Who knew people born with integrity to make something of the world could dissect your own mind, that you should control, with all of the impurities you could ever imagine.

You're fat, you're ugly, you have purple hair, ew. you wear a size 16?! Oh my god, I'm sorry.  

We are all born perfect, we are a good race, we stand for what we believe in, they stand for what they believe in. And what they believe in is the most disgusting and vile thought that could ever take up a mind of the once humble human god created. What child would ever want to grow up and know that they would probably live to despise themselves, because words do hurt. 

I was in 6th grade when I first heard you use the word "fat" to describe me and for damn sure not the last time either, I ran home and cried to my mother because who knew the world could be so cruel? 

I went to school wearing black, heavy sweatshirts and gray t's because I obviously never wanted to insinuate beauty on regards to something so insulting as my body. 

I was taught to love who I am, to live life without a moment wasted because I was beautiful, and I had nothing to worry about. 

But in reality every moment was indeed wasted on time I sat in the bathroom trying to tape my drooping stomach in so I looked skinny, or working myself out to a the point of vomiting every night. But I did it because that's how Louis liked his girls and not only him but the rest of the merciless boys who told me I was worthless because I wasn't skinny. And because that magazine I picked up off of the shelf told me I had to weigh 110 pounds and if I wasn't a tall blonde with a nice rack I wouldn't succeed. 

When they swarmed around the girl next to me because she was as thin as a twig, and showed off her boobs more than I did, I dreamed of living her life, because dreaming of becoming a doctor or an astronaut is a waste of time, right? 

I spent hundreds of dollars on magazinesk that told me how I should look, and I believed it because of attractive posters that told me "this is the life you should be living" and that "the body you are in is ugly, and won't attract men." 

Because I was born to be as perfect as I possibly can be to please you Mr. and Mrs. Anonymous?

In hopes of one day having the one person I grow up for, to love me. But no sweetie, you'll never find love because you're obese and don't wear a size 0. 

But yes, in the end we all do end up in a ball on the floor because we're trapped inside the body we learn to hate, and when I do need to come to terms with the me that loves me , I can't find her, to tell her that the world is like a mirror meant to be a curse, and when she shouts "let me out", I listen. But it's met by a trail of conceded, and narcissist. Because I have to live a life where only society can tell me what's beautiful about me. But who knew loving yourself could be a sin. Since when was love of oneself made an offense by morons that don't matter.

Who knew we could build a world that criticized it's own people for being what they truly are? 

I sit and watch young girls try so hard to be someone else, when they should be realizing what a beautiful human beings they were made to be. 

Oh Mr. and Mrs. Anonymous, I watch you rape the minds of girls with the stereotypes of the perfect person, when you yourself probably are far from that indeed. 

I have learned to love myself, and no of course not my body because you forced me to morph it into something inhumane.

I've gained enough experience to know that the world is indeed filled with hate. 

You can't surrender to them. 

You have to remember everyday that you're the only thing you'll ever have, forever. 

Remember that the way your laugh can make a thousand others spark up. Or the way your smile could change a person from killing themselves. And the way your voice is so melodic is makes the whole world dance. 

And if you ever just take a moment to notice you are so much more than your waistline, you would see that you're worth the beautiful thoughts you think and the daring life you take on that change the centuries to come.  But sometimes we forget that because we live in a world where we are taken from the whom and given to the media to nurse us, and teach our first words as "pretty skinny skinny pretty muscular slim pretty". 

But I don't care about your gender, weight, looks or skin color, none of that matters because standards don't make you. 

You don't live to reach the prerequisites of the perfect girl a mad man created. 

You're a damn treasure weather you want to believe it or not. 

Mr. And Mrs. Anonymous you are so crushable because my actions of loving myself speak louder than you words.