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.