A Collection of Randomness

Who am I really?

Who Am I Really?

Who am I Supposed to be?

Well, let's see...

Society says I have to be perfect.

They say: Don't touch that plate of food.

You'll get fat.

And when I take that advice,

I'm starving myself for attention.

They say, layer on that makeup thick.

We have to hide your ugliness somehow.

And when I take that advice,

I'm a slut who's asking for it.

They create trends that we have to follow

In order to be considered 'normal'.

And when I follow those trends,

I'm just another 'unoriginal, basic girl'.

They say to layer on clothes so I'm not blamed for my own rape.

But when I take that advice, I'm a prude.

They tell me to show just a little more skin.

Just a little.

And when I do,

I'm another filthy skank.

Who am I seen as?

To my peers, I'm just another invisible girl.

When I try to stand out,

I'm an attention seeking whore.

To the preps, the popular kids,

I'm a geek. A nerd. A weirdo.

I should try and be 'cooler'. 'Better'.

And you know, what they say goes, right?

After all, they are the monarchy of the school system.

But when I take their advice,

I'm just another pathetic copycat

Trying to climb the ranks.

And to my friends...

What are those any ways?

What am I?

I'm human.

Made out of flesh and blood just like everyone else.

I'm a person

Living in this messed up society that we call home.

This patriarchal place

That sets our beauty standards so high

The only way to reach them is to be dead in heaven.

I'm a girl.

Afraid to step anywhere out of the norm

Because if I do,

I'm a radical feminist

Trying to make women superior to men.

Who do I want to be?

I want to be her.

No one specific.

Just her.

The perfect girl that everyone strives to be.

The one that society adores.

Not because she fits the standards of society,

But because she is society.

What am I not?

I am not the numbers on a scale.

I am not how many boys I've been with.

I am not an object created solely for a man's pleasure.

Who am I really?

I am all my faults.

I am made of my blood, sweat, and tears.

I am not perfect.

But who is?

I am beautiful.

I am loved.

I am made up of the same particles as all of you.

I am human.

I am proud of who I am.

I can eat that food

Because this is my body.

I can wear what I want,

Be who I want.

Society only controls your life if you allow it to.

And I refuse to anymore.

Who are you?

Deep down,

You are a stranger to me.

But you are utterly and wholly beautiful.

You are strong and loved

And fierce and amazing.

You are who you choose to be.