rottenrepository

[rottenrepository]

Would I kill to be skinny? Yes.

Is it feasible for my body to ever be skinny? Not healthily.

To my bloodline, a thin frame is a forbidden fruit.

My health nut aunt who prioritizes all-things healthy is midsize. My mother who works out more than I see her in a week is midsize. My other, well-traveled, Floridian aunt who works 16-hour shifts and was on Ozempic: midsize.

Even my father, who is in very good shape and appears extremely healthy isn't flat as a board.

And yet society expects everyone to fit in this cookie-cutter mold of low-rise and size 2 jeans.

To think that my figure would have been celebrated in a time where my grandmother had just been born hurts. At that same time, women were property; serve your man and pop out babies or you have zero purpose in life. A healthy figure meant you had a good hip-to-waist ratio. A healthy figure meant you could incubate as many babies as your selfish husband could dream of.

Today, a healthy figure means carcinogenic weight loss drugs, bumps of fairy dust with zero signs of any muscle tone in sight. Weak, frail, and still objects. We have rights now, at the least.

With every decade, society seems to take one step forward while catapulting itself backward with the force of an elephant on speed.

Why can't women be held to healthy, attainable standards and be viewed as equals?

Why does society pin us against each other in the pursuit of objectification?

The answer ultimately boils down to the patriarchy.

On a similar note, whenever a new form of media comes out with a male character who looks like he fought tooth and nail to even be considered human, there is always a huge group of women who drool over him regardless of personality. The ability to celebrate unique features without any influence other than physical. Even if they're widely considered "ugly" by mainstream media. It's truly beautiful.

I never see men do this unless it fits into a fetish.

I wish men loved women the way women love men.

As an asexual woman, I can't help but wonder of a world where humans are not a sexual species. Where we live and love, rather than suffer and hate.

[rottenrepository]

Drowning in a never-ending waterfall of self-hatred. Wallowing in the filth that I am. Doom-scrolling myself into a spiraling hole of despair. Often I reflect on my life; my choices, my appearance, the people I've met. My flaws become increasingly apparent day by day. I look to myself in the mirror, staring at the cracks of which are not made of glass, but flesh and bone. Before me stands the epitome of imperfection and rot. Uneven, scarred and maimed from the onslaught of picking fingers, brought forth by the catalyst of all that ails my aching brain. Never good enough, never pleasing to the eye or intelligent enough. I write, I draw, I think, I speak. I am nothing but pen and paper. There is nothing for me here. Faceless, yet ill-favored. Ever fiber of my own being I despise with a passion. I am self-loathing and miserable in the pursuit of happiness. A fruitless endeavor, it seems, yet I chase the high of what it must feel like to be loved.

On the topic of love, I strive for purity in my actions. I try to love, but as I watch with restless eyes, I find the flaws in everyone around me. What bandages the gaping wounds left by the past is what goes against my directive. Though, as my eyes settle, they fall on that mirror again. There is no cure for me. Not in this lifetime. I am falling apart.

I fall apart in front of everyone I hold dear. I crack and crumble to a fine dust with every breath I take, struggling with the simple things. Life Itself is a cruel being.