I’m mad at you. Your lies, the images of “ideal” vandalized in everyone’s mind, driving them to cut shapes in their skin and end themselves. I’m mad because we were given the gift of difference, the gift of a mind possibly like no other. I’m mad because we did everything wrong with gift. The animal in us still wants to get to the top, the very top of the line because that’s how we survive. By making ourselves stand out. We killed each other and made our families watch. We cut through those who denied our presence with blades and stones. We never once thought about peace. Or maybe we did, but the screaming in society, the dominant voice that led us into self destruction has trampled over the little gleam of hope. I wish I could just be mad at you, but I’m not. I’m mad at myself, because I tell myself I hate that image that every girl follows, I hate that promise society makes that if we use this, our lives will get better. But I still follow that stupid image. I fall for every promise society makes even though it doesn’t know what it’s doing. It’s hard to say we’ve gotten over that image, because we still want to get to the top of the line like everyone else. We take pills to forget who we’re mad at. We take the knife in our hands to distract us from what we so desperately need to pay attention to. We flourish in our dark bedroom, because the cold floor is used to our weight and the ceiling is used to catching our anger as it rises above us and takes over. We’re still following that light whether we like it or not. Why in a world so advanced, smart, emotional, delicate and indestructible are we so blind to what is ruining us altogether? Not by war, not by bullets, but by that image that we look up to. By that artificial light that drives us to **** each other. By a world so driven to getting to the top, that we fall trying to get there.