The Weight Of Expectations

Chapter One

Facing Demons, Loved Or Otherwise

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, winter of despair." - Charles Dickens.

Society.

This complex and gruesome hierarchy of insecurity has bore an incredulous view of mankind's systematic expectations.

Mankind have tarnished their purpose of being in this world. Morals have been disregarded. Love and loyalties questioned and broken. And evil has reighened Supreme.

Mankind has bore monsters.

But that is not the purpose of this book. This book serves the purpose of acceptance, a purpose of self-discovery, and self-love.

All qualities I lack in myself.

All qualities mankind has refused to show me.

I'm not one to wish man destruction, but man has made me a bundle of hate and bitterness.

I remember standing in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the reflection of a girl who didn't feel like me. I was 10 years old, and the numbers on the scale had become my enemy. My mother's words echoed in my mind: 'You need to lose weight, or you'll never be happy.' Little did I know those words would haunt me for years to come, fueling a journey of self-doubt, shame, and ultimately, self-discovery.

As I gazed into the mirror, I saw a face that didn't match the person I felt like inside. My eyes seemed too big, my nose too small, and my body... well, my body was just wrong. The curves that were starting to form felt like a betrayal, a reminder that I was no longer the skinny little girl I once was. I felt like I was losing myself, like I was disappearing into a sea of fat and insecurity.

I tried to suck in my stomach to make myself smaller, but it didn't work. I was still there, still visible, still me. And that was the problem. I didn't want to be me anymore. I wanted to be someone else, someone thin and beautiful and loved.

As I stood there, tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I felt so alone, so lost. I didn't know how to escape the prison of my own body, how to break free from the lies that had been whispered into my ear. But I knew I had to try. I knew I had to find a way to love myself, to accept myself, to be myself.

But I couldn't. I couldn't break free from the shackles of insecurity. They weighed me down and constricted every time I even thought of breaking free.

I walked out of the bathroom and into the living room, where my mother was lounging on the sofa. She looked up at me, a concerned expression on her face. 'Sweetie, you know, you have such a beautiful figure. If only you would slim down. Why dont you try eating healthier and lesser?'

I felt a familiar surge of frustration. I knew my mom's intentions were good - she wanted me to be healthy and happy - but her approach always seemed to focus on my weight, on changing my body to fit some ideal standard.

'Mom, I'm fine,' I said, trying to brush it off. 'I don't need to diet or anything.'

But she just smiled. 'Oh, Mona, it's not about dieting. It's about being healthy. And I just want what's best for you.'

I felt a lump form in my throat. I knew she loved me, but her words still stung. Why couldn't she see that her constant focus on my weight was hurting me, not helping me?

I nodded and forced a smile, trying to reassure her that everything was okay. But inside, I felt like I was screaming. Why couldn't she just accept me for who I was without trying to change me?

It made me wonder what kind of life I was leading. Who'd I be the same angry, insecure little girl even when I grew up?

I didn't want to be. I didn't want to live a life of loneliness. Constantly questioning my value and my worth.

But I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop hating myself. Couldn't help the paranoia that crept in when I felt peoples stare , peoples laughs.

Oh, but my mind, a deep dark Abyss of hatred and bitterness. It never fails to remind me of my place in the world.

I should never get caught up in it, this Abyss. I guess that's why the world of fantasy, romance, and soul gripping love caught me in its vice. It's so fascinating how one can get lost in endless printed papers and the smell of old leather.

The world of imagination. A place where reality and fantasy blur. At least it has for me.

And I love it, cherish it even. It's a little speck of light just floating above the water, keeping me afloat. It's a tiny light of hope that I know I will never get a hold of, but I will keep reaching for it anyway.

For I know if it diminishes, all hope will be lost, and I will find myself suffocating. Drowning in cold dark waters with no chance of ever swimming back afloat.

I will be nothing.

If endless papercuts and fairy tales are the only chances of happiness left for me, then so be it.

So to speak, one would say I'm masking my loneliness with books, and I'm actually not truly happy.

But as you continue to live a life of solitude, all you begin to know is so. Contrary to how I am now, I used to be a bundle of rainbows and sunshine. A true social butterfly.

The more I think about it, the high-school broke me. Reduced to nothing. A shell of my once happy self.

Maybe I'm being dramatic, but all I know is I'm not the same person I used to be all because of kids no different from me.

I always know the answer to my questions of self-doubt, but I always question myself despite that ,torturing myself.

Maybe one day I might be able to confidently give a different answer.

Thus, I write this book. I write this memoir in hopes it might strengthen me and actually lead me to this “self discovery and self love” I so crave.