The Power of the Pressure

it is a power so strong that even the strongest will succumb

strongest as in physical with the abs, arms, legs

strongest as in will with the mind, heart, and soul.

lurking eyes to see the lumps, bumps, and imperfections

on the bodies 

in the magazines

strutting across TV screens

scrolling through my timeline.

why can we not

as a society of human beings

all consisting of the same substances

the flesh, blood, and bones

why can we not see ourselves

through a view of kindness, respect, love?

why is our vision so clouded

by the tuck, tone, and trim

that we fail to see the beauty in ourselves?

why is this power

this power of pressure

to feel, look, and be

a type of beautiful that is formed 

not around our morals

not around what we believe

but around people who tell us what to believe

and we believe them. that we are not beautiful

unless we have the slim, sexy, superficial

that society tells us is ideal.

depression, anxiety, self hatred

all exist at the bottom

of an unacheivable goal.

and we accept these things

as if they are normal, daily, unimportant.

somewhere there is a line.

if we open our eyes

to embrace our differences

knowing not one person is the same as another

then we can move on in peace

confirming that we are special, unique, important.

only then can we thrive.

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