NUMBERS

As days split into nights 
We spent all of our time 
counting money.
counting friends.
counting days. 
The number of clothes, shoes,
houses and fancy cars we own.
The likes, followers and comments 
we get on social media,
the number of awards we've received
or how much we earn.
We kept looking at the numbers
on our answer scripts after 
breaking into a sweat, 
wondering how we could 
have done better. 
Those moments of debilitating anxiety 
when our eyes met the numbers 
on weighing machines 
and we would hate ourselves for 
gaining or reducing weight. 
Losing sleep over 
the calories we did and didn't burn 
The measuring tape surrounding 
our waist became our prized possession
as we would squeeze into our clothes.
centimeter by centimeter, inch by inch
we should have been a little taller
a little shorter, we'd say to ourselves. 
Those phases of getting 
horrified by the sight of scars and marks 
that run through our bodies,
the pimples dancing on our faces 
and the lines sketched around our eyes, 
or the circles, bags and pits under them. 
we've been so hard on ourselves 
because we thought that going easy 
wasn't an option 
It's about time we stopped pleasing people,
pleasing the world, idealizing certain body types
We all know it's exhausting 
even if we aren't so vocal about it
yet we laugh at someone who doesn't 
bother to be 'perfect' 
we're filled with scorn when we see them,
we keep jeering at them, 
thinking we're better or the best.
How did we come to this? 
When will we ever be good enough 
and look past our flaws ? 
The question still remains.
Why do we let numbers determine our worth? 





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