WHAT GUYS LOOK FOR IN GIRLS: A Slam Poem by Savannah Brown

When I first learned that no one could ever love me more than me, a world of happiness previously unseen was discovered because somewhere along the line of aging, and scrutiny, and time, I was taught to despise myself. But I made sure I kept myself beautiful so someone would love me someday. So I could belong to someone someday because that's the most important thing a little girl could ever want, right? I was 13 the first time I was embarrassed about my body of course it was not to be the last. I remember stuffing my bra in the morning tears stinging my eyes hoping, praying to something I could look beautiful enough today, braces and all, for the ruthless boys who mercilessly told me I was worthless because my boobs were big enough. I would go home and put on a sweatshirt with my eyes close, deny myself the right to be shown myself, because I didn't dare want to insinuate beauty in regards to something so insulting as my body. But I mean we all end up with their heads between her knees, because the only place will ever truly feel safe is curled up inside skin we have been taught to hate by society that shuns are awful confidence and feeds us our own flaws and sometimes when I need to meet the me that loves me, I can't find her. A reminder that the mirror is meant to be a curse so I can find her in my mind but when he or she shouts let me out we're all allowed to listen. But it's met by course of conceited, egotistical, narcissist but since when was self solitude a sin? Since when was loving who we are made an offense by morons that don't matter change this physicality and that one, don't shatter the illusion you could ever be anything beyond paper fine flesh and flashy teeth and fingernails egotistical accusations, never good enough have you ever felt so numb that it hurts entertain me. Whore. You can't surrender to them. You got to remember you're the only thing you will ever truly have and I don't mean your body because someday it'll go bad no matter what do I mean you. I mean the way your bright eyes go wild when you smile and how your laughter is so melodic it's a song. I mean the way your creativity is a compass that leads you to what you love and you don't need any miracle cream to keep your passions smooth, hair free or diet pills to slim your kindness down and when you start to drown in these these pity expectations you better reexamine the miracle of your existence because you are worth so much more than your waistline. You are worth the beautiful thoughts you think and the daring dreams you dream, undone and drunk off alcohol of being but sometimes we forget that because we live in a world where the media pulls us from the womb, nurses us and teaches us first words "skinny, pretty, skinny, pretty, girls, soft, quiet, pretty, boys, manly, muscles, pretty". I don't care whether it's your gender, your looks, your weight, your skin, or where your love lies none of that matters because standards don't define you. You don't live to meet the credentials established by madman. You are a goddamn treasure whether you want to believe it or not. Maybe that's what everyone should start looking for.

~Savannah Brown