There have been times in my life where I knew, with out a thread of doubt, that I was born for greatness.
But consistently, with an unfailing persistence that surely is possessed solely by God himself, the grim feeling of worthlessness will grow in me.
This feeling is brought on by myself, but projected through a mirror and is not merely limited to the feminine.
Boundless, this feeling seeps through us all. It grows in business men, it prospers in the powerful, especially in the beautiful.
The feeling is mental, the repercussions, physical.
It's a feeling that is materialized in a drunken haze and ruins our perception of what is reality.
My biggest enemy in my life is the facade of the mirror. It's depictions are reality, but through my eyes the image is twisted. My brain processes my body and then shows me what I thought I would see all along. By the time it reaches the home of my self-esteem, my heart, it is a different picture all together.
I am fat.
Whether it is the truth or not, it will ALWAYS be what I see.
Body image is a war of emotions, fought between self-worth and emptiness.
It is a futile battle. There is no clear winner in the war between a spirit and a body. The image that we have our sights on is seemingly unattainable, mostly because it probably is.
This society looks in mirrors, not to see themselves, but in a hope to see Seventeen Magazine, in a desperation to see Vogue.
Inner beauty is pushed aside and labeled as valueless, while we all strive toward a superficial mediocrity that will only lead us to pining for reassurance, aching for validation.
The tears that I cry are cried by everyone at some point. And once that is understood, there is a a weapon added to the fight. An alliance of the self-inflicted sufferers, power in numbers.