A raging war, consumed and engrossed by the aspect of being that it girl. That girl, that walks down the street and every head turns her way. Opportunities handed to her, for by just the features on her face, her body a temple. Her mind, wide yet set on a path to be the best she can be. Coffee and a ciggereate, that’s my breakfast. I wash myself down with lotions and soaps that, glitter effect. That this will make me smell better, feel better, look… Better. Fearing not being that girl, we wire ourselves to our egos, crave attention off other people. Biting into that Apple never made me feel worth it. Tearing myself away from my own intelligence, reading and researching I never wanted that. Being smart never felt sexy, it always felt as if I was trying to be someone I never wanted to be. I wore all the finest clothes and smiled at the appropriate people and tried so hard to fit in with them girls that could bare all in a bikini with there long hair, tan skin and amazing cuticles. They didn’t feel my vibe. They could tell something inside me was off. So I go home, lock my door and trace upstairs. To be greeted with a mirror, and I seen my entirety. A lost piece of my recklessness and late nights with those boys that thought I was just another pretty girl. I felt a whole inside my chest. It was, deep, emotional and forgiving. I sat crossed legged and cut my hair short, not as a statement of my feminine side being lossed. I did it so I could feel my hair against my neck itching my skin and surrendering that piece of ignorance I held for so long. I wanted to feel beautiful. I showered a different way, I used coconut oil body wash with no trace of chemicals to sting my skin with. I felt my skin again. I read French novels, listened to beautiful music with a deeper meaning then those bad memory’s I will never get to relive. I tore apart my life and in the meaning of finding myself I realised being a sheep made me loose some self worth, it was the fact I never realised I was a shepherd. There’s nothing wrong with beautiful girls, and a beautiful life with a glorious body. There’s nothing wrong with glittery soaps and tanning lotions. I feel that way still, I want to get dolled up and I want to feel that inch of temptation towards the it girl. But, I want more then a good body or boys to find me attractive, I want more then the sex appeal. I would have felt better about being her, if it wasn’t for everybody else. I should have been her, for me. She wasn’t me though. If she isn’t you, then be proud. Not all girls feel that way about them selves. That raging war that’s going on in the world right now, pressure of likes and followers and shares. It’s a constructed idea we have put across in the world. It’s been going on for decades. Feeling beautiful in your own skin should be free. Not a thing you can buy in the shop, yet makeup is a great way of self expression. I mean, feel beautiful without the curls and the fur coat. Feel beautiful in your pyjamas, with no makeup and a messy bun. Ravish yourself in amazing food you’ve never tried before. Taste your own freedom. 

I just wish she felt that way. I wish she didn’t shove the diet pills down my throat and made me forget my self worth was more then my body and not my mind that can swirl into constellations of insanely amazing ideas and thoughts. I wish she didn’t feel like she wasn’t beautiful. Because, underneath that ego. There’s some breath taking, smart, creative unbelievable girl that just cannot look in the mirror without seeing the physical attraction. Yet, we’re all just girls. That’s the whole exterior thing. We’re awakening, like a sunrise in the Alps that you just cannot take your eyes off. We’re, girls. 


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s