Does even perfection exist ?

What do you think? Does even perfection exist?

Back then I was just like her a girl to whom small things were candy of happiness but a door was suddenly left ajar into some world unseen before.

It all started when I was unable to bear the pain of being called by different names “ugly” because I was among one of those chubby girls.

I always got to hear for my skin color which was least in the rank of beauty. This always left me wondering isn’t it “BEAUTY” and perfection defined by the way we see nor the way we have to pretend.

I realized I was in a web we call it “society” which was obsessed with the so-called “PERFECTION.” Oh, how till date I have been searching for that very definition. To me, perfection was just an illusion.

Does even perfection exist?

School and college always haunted me as if I was a poker table to play on. I cried every time when I was insulted on being short in height, I cried on being bullied over my looks, my tears knew no boundaries. I was buried in the school like a mouse in a cheese and that Burned me like a living coal in the soul.

Every time they bullied or passed comment the only thing I did was to beg them, ask them to stop, plead the to not do this. Humiliation was all I got. I wonder what if I could have once stood for my self? The story must have been different. But there was no one to listen to or reach me.

The home was the only place where I thought I could be myself but this also turned into a nightmare when cousins & siblings became the touchstone of beauty.

This comparison started eating me up the pain seemed to creep my soul. I end up locking myself in my room. The shell was all I had a place to hide. Murk was all I loved now, it appeared to be my best friend who was in my sorrow and loneliness.

I thought coming out of it meant being a dartboard where everyone was ready with the missiles to mark their point.

Locking up in the room could not help me to sleep every time I tried to close my eyes a sound like the throb of a bell kept on bugging me, it was their voices that echoed in my head asking to bang it on the walls so that I cannot hear them again. I was so much in pain. The pain seemed inescapable and my eyes were now dried.

Every time I looked into the mirror it screamed of my failure. I was like an immortal spirit dwelt in a frail body, like a bird in an outworn cage. It told me I was a “shame” to the people I am around.

It was my appearance that mattered the most then my presence in anyone’s life. I was forced to do things my body was unable to accept Because “force” was never meant to act as a guide. I kept on punishing my self rather than fighting back.

She was still trembling in my arms. As a dead leaf wished to return to the tree.

This time I promised myself not to give the power in hands of my past because I am here to bring her back from the humiliation she must have been facing. The pain must be unbearable that it asked her to take her life this way. I blamed myself for not being there for her. But now I’ll be her guide and the light in her darkness.

I’ll teach her how to love one’s own self and accept the way we are. And I’ll make her see that “Fat” “thin” “tall” “short” nothing matters as long as you are comfortable in your skin.

I’ll show her path of self-love and appreciation by being thankful for the things you have.

And I’ll make her see we all are different from each other in some way – beautifully different. I’ll make her fighter. I’ll ask her to ignore the standards set by society if they are not meant to keep you happy.

And I’ll make sure that she sees that ugliness is in mind not in the appearance and perfection.

I choose this profession. On my own with the pledge to protect those who are ashamed of their body. And try to fit into the so-called norms which in turn lead them to self-destruction. To bring back those who have lost their self-esteem and self-confidence.

With this, I found everyone, the principal, the staff, and her parents approaching me to see if their child won the battle of surviving, unaware of the battle she has been fighting alone.

By – Gul Earam

gulearam0@gmail.com 

Instagram – @tgwtyp

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