Findings

I AM A ZOMBIE, Lusting and craving one thing. Indefinitely hunting and searching for  just  one  thing. Perfection.

My eyes glaze over scrolling through instagram, double tapping edited faces. Blurred, my perception of beauty and worth left askewed by the standards I set.

Tripping and stumbling, I wear extra socks trying to fill perfection's giant shoes. Reassured by filters and followers that I too can be free of my faults and flaws.

Ravenous. Like a drug retweets and likes consume the heart and the mind, I am addicted to filling the perpetual hole that "beauty" has left inside of me. 

I AM NOT A ZOMBIE. I am made of flesh and bone. I have a voice fueled by a soul. I am flawed, but to be flawed is to be alive. And as I live I will thrive on the idea that my ideas are worth more than what's in the mirror.

Imperfect. Although my skin may be tattered and torn, used up and well-worn it is mine and mine alone. Every edge and every curve, every cut and every burn tells a story only my ears can hear. 

Resilient. I have the strength to tell the tale told in scars. A story of pain and passion, persecution and promise. I cling to this skin because it is the cover to my book and my mind fills the pages.  

I AM HUMAN. From my curly hair to wiggling toes, from my wide hips to my round nose I am human. From my dimpled cheeks to my to my rosy lips, from my brown eyes to my fingertips I AM HUMAN. I left behind rotted flesh to take the chance of bleeding to death, but at least I know that I'm human.