If you’re not careful, you will hear Society tell you to be many things at once. And some times it’s best not to listen. Close your ears and eyes, turn them inwards and hear what your mind and heart tells you.
Here’s a touching song, that gives a perspective on how media and people are forcing ideals on girls and women. You may say it’s easy to ignore. It’s a stupid ad/article/song/music video/story/etc… that this does not affect you and only affects people who are looking for trouble/attention/etc (or however a justifying sentence you can come up with might sound) but the truth is: It hits us all and we are all here to struggle with expectations, or general ideas of how we’re supposed to be. Because Society speaks louder to us, than any loved one ever did. And I hope for everyone out there, you’ll refocus what you hear and who speaks to you.
It’s bullshit! Don’t listen to it. Find medias and people who will encourage you to prosper and love yourself and others, for who they are. Even if what they do, is listen to Society a little too much… you’ll learn and pass it on by being you.
This one goes out to all girls and women, who in their struggle with society, struggle with themselves even harder ❤
I know girls who are trying to fit into the social norm like squeezing into last year’s prom dress I know girls who are low rise, mac eyeshadow, and binge drinking I know girls that wonder if they’re disaster and sexy enough to fit in I know girls who are fleeing bombs from the mosques of their skin Playing russian roulette with death; it’s never easy to accept
That our bodies are fallible and flawed
but when do we draw the line?
When the knife hits the skin? Isn’t it the same thing as purging, because we’re so obsessed with death, Some women just have more guts than others The funny thing is women like us don’t shoot We swallow pills, still wanting to be beautiful at the morgue, Still proceeding to put on make-up, Still hoping that the mortician finds us fuckable and attractive We might as well be buried with our shoes, and handbags and scarves, girls We flirt with death everytime we etch a new tally mark Into our skin I know how to split my wrists like a battlefield too but the time has come for us to Reclaim our bodies Our bodies deserve more than to be war-torn and collateral,
Offering this fuckdom as a pathetic means to say,
“I only know how to exist when I’m wanted”
Girls like us are hardly ever wanted you know We’re used up and sad and drunk and Perpetually waiting by the phone for someone to pick up And tell us that we did good You did good. (I know I am because I said am, my body is home) So try this Take your hands over your bumpy love body naked and remember the first time you touched someone With the sole purpose of learning all of them Touched them because the light was pretty on them and the dust in the sunlight danced the way your heart did Touch yourself with a purpose Your body is the most beautiful royal fathers and uncles are not claiming your knife Anymore Are not your razor, no Put the sharpness back Lay your hands flat and feel the surface of scarred skin I once touched a tree with charred limbs The stump was still breathing but the tops were just ashy remains, I wonder what it’s like to come back from that Sometimes i feel a forest fire erupting from my wrists And the smoke signals sent out are the most Beautiful things I’ve ever seen Love your body the way your mother loved your baby feet And brother, arm wrapping shoulders, and remember, This is important: You are worth more than who you fuck You are worth more than a waistline You are worth more than any naked body could proclaim In the shadows, more than a man’s whim or your father’s mistake You are no less valuable as a size 16, than a size 4 You are no less valuable as a 32A than a 36C, Your sexiness is defined by concentric circles within your wood; wisdom You are a goddamn tree stump with leaves sprouting out: Reborn