When I Was Young- Psychology Essay

Pages: 5 (857 words) Published: June 25, 2013
By Megan Cruickshank

When I was 11,
My teacher asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I told her I wanted to be the girl sitting next to me.

Again when I was 12
My teacher asked me what my name was and
I said I was the girl that was next to the girl sitting next to me.

I thought She was lovely with blonde hair and her eyes sparkled brighter than the moon And her laugh lit up the sky with embers and stars
And I envied her collarbones and fingers and I wished to myself that one day I might be as perfect as she was.

When I was 15,
The girl that used to sit next to me killed herself and I didn't know who I wanted to be after all of that. She had written in her perfect handwriting I can't anymore but she was so happy I thought.

Historians all dedicate their lives
to studying the corruption
of those that let the power touch their souls
before they let their heart absorb it.

They all dedicate their lives
to remembering the dark winds
that we all wrapped each other in.
To remembering the animosity,
the hatred,
the exclusion and rejection
of those in our own civilisation.

To correcting prohibition of rights
for those who looked,
or sounded,
or spoke in a different way,
The ostracism of those
who played dissonant sounds
through trumpets that didn't work
because that was all they were
allowed to afford.

And they say its different here now
But really it isn't a different colour
Or place
And it doesn't sound different
Or feel different
And the sky is the same shade of blue here

With the words love, beauty and fake stamped on society
And theres still A gentle tapping following your ears
Of what morals are meant to be.

We aren't exposed to expectations anymore.
Trains are tagged with slender and slander.
We're meant to be skinny
We're meant to be strong
We're meant to be perfect now.
We aren't exposed to expectations anymore.
Our souls now are branded with yearning
Branded with who we're meant to be
Instead of who we are.

And no one knows who they are anymore
Without knowing what's wrong
And psychology is a dedicated profession to diagnosing errors and wrongs You'll rattle off your weakness
Without remembering your strengths.

That girl i used to sit next to couldn't look
in the mirror anymore,
who wouldn't eat anymore,
despite being told she is beautiful.
after Countless hours and hours of appointments
and psychologists she will never believe
she is remarkable.
They don't know she looks for her flaws,
They don't know she looks for flawless
while we sleep.

The flawless that for some reason
we all appreciate in the same
superficial manner
that we all seem to pride ourselves on.

We hashtag and comment and reblog
and trend the words perfection
but if excellence is distorted beauty
with exposed and frail bones blanketed by pale skin,
Then I don't want it anymore.

No the words love beauty and fake aren't stamped on society anymore. We don't need to read them anymore to know why we're all worthless. And we're not worthless.

We're a phenomenon in ourselves
and how wonderfully strange it is to be anything at all.
To walk and communicate and love and hate and feel all at the same time.

We could decide
And apply and make changes
And some of us killed,
Some of us were killed
But we were all ourselves.

Different and unique from each other
we mapped our future
We mapped our opinions
We rebelled until we were lost down a yellow brick road
And we are corrupt.

We hated each other,
But when did we start hating ourselves?
We could be humble
And happy
And we could be everything or anything or nothing if we wanted.

We could be tall or short or curvy or skinny or lazy or active or smart and we were different but we were our own.

But they wrecked us,
didn't they?
Now we're all walking inventions
of expectations
and we aren't who we used to be.
We aren't anyone...
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