I remember when I was young my father died in a horrible crash and my mother's distance was expressed in the number of states between us. Because my emotions were labeled unstable, I was lost in the pain of his death, and the sadness of the loneliness I felt without her. I didn't allow anyone in, shying away from society and in return, shunned away from them.
I was taken in by my aunt; we were the odd ducklings of our family, the baby caterpillars that became beautiful butterflies under blind eyes. We would always receive Christmas cards from the relatives who never came for celebration but instead sent pictures that showed a perfect family I came to discover, they weren't. What family is?
I began befriending girls who cared too much about their length of their nose, or the width of their stomachs, and the size of their thighs. And even though I was brought up to believe I was beautiful society taught me I wasn't. I can still hear the soft sounds of family assuring me beauty wasn't skin deep, yet reminding me that losing a few pounds might help.
In school they spoke of self-worth but never taught it. They advertised the value of loving yourself but never talked of those who didn't know how, and what to love. These people who, despite everyone they know, despite a loving mother, a father who's there, and despite friends who care can't convince themselves that they are worth remembering.
Because society wasn't made that way. Society was this cruel monster of artificial selection that picked a person based on their appearance and the...