Metaphorically speaking I can taste blood at the end of my throat as this particular sentence (looks don’t matter) forms a voice inside my head. With a bleeding heart and an unfortunate smile I want to state that I am a guy. A guy who is 5ft 4inch tall. Fondling over these words one must wonder it doesn’t seems to be that big of a deal. But with a melting soul I would like to raise my voice that it is a big deal, it’s a big deal when every other person you tend to meet reminds of this fact in their unnoticed actions. When people wreck your soul in a simple attempt of mockery. When your feelings are stomped over and your wisdom is overlooked in shadows of absurd jokes. When your friends bend while taking a modern day selfie. When your family crushes you with unauthentic notions because they want you to be who you never can be-tall- ; as if it’s a matter of choice. And that’s when you realize that you can never be the perfect child. And so it becomes heart rendering to wake up every day an
d let the mighty mirror mock your visage because even he knows that you can never fit in society’s predetermined notions of beauty. That’s when it becomes a big deal. And then cherry on the cake are those sympathetic stares that create a void of imperfection in your already broken heart. It hurts when the world reminds you of your insecurities; it hurts so much that it burns my pride to ashes and brings me down on my knees forcing me to beg that
“Please make me wear my insecurities as badges of my triumph; I am tired of them punishing me.”