I remember exactly when I started to feel this way. Well, not the date or time. But with my horrible memory, even remembering this much is commendable. So imagine you’re standing at the very top of the Eiffel Tower. The city of Paris unfolded in front of you. Every building, every road, every turn. Every monument, every river. You can see everything. The wind so strong it sounds like it’s shouting in your ears, reminding you of where you are. And your hair is everywhere. The world at your feet. And you’re crying because you think you’re ugly. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Years and years of history and all little Presh can think about is her chubbiness and dark skin, matted hair and glasses. And how everyone around her is beautiful and how she pales in comparison. How everyone else is a star and she is the night sky. And how for the first time, standing at the edge of such a height gave her something scarier than vertigo.
Of course I was silly and a teenager and hormonal. But I was also influenced by media and society telling me that my skin was not to be desired, my big lips unbecoming on my face and just too much hair everywhere. Everything was wrong. So I cried and I cried. And in some time my tears became symbols for other things. On the bright side, I no longer think I’m ugly. But unfortunately, there are so many other things to cry about. But I do believe everything will pass. So if you’re stuck like I am, just hold on to some faith. It might just lead you somewhere.
Song for today is The Scientist – Coldplay
Thoughtsofunloneliness 