Why have I made myself hate me so much? Why are society's standards so incredibly high? Why won't people acknowledge ones true beauty? It's not about the flat stomach, ladies. Not the make-up, either. Nor the hair. Do you need extensions, fake nails or fake eyelashes to feel pretty? The whole messed-up idea is wrong. Why would you put funny-looking, plastic, artificial things on your body? Because we want to look nice. Feel nice. And for us, low-self-esteem girls, well... Lets say we want to accomplish our happiness by being eye-candy. And for that to happen, we have to change our whole selves, of course. Not any part of ourselves will do. We have to become a different person in order to be likeable. We have to be fake, giggly idiots who wear way too much make-up, fancy designers clothes, and expensive jewelry. We have to eat miniature salads to stay fit, and go to the gym everyday. On top of that, if you go to the beach you have to be lady-like and sunbathe all day long (the most boring thing ever). And there you are, amazing tanned body, incredible hair and impeccably dressed. But you know what, little Miss Perfect? You are empty inside. You are shallow. You have nothing left, apart from you looks and your expensive clothing. No real friends. No memories. No life. You were so worried working out and shopping that you didn't notice your life passing by right past you. And you are not growing younger as the minutes go by, sweetheart. One day you'll wake up and realize that you have nothing. Your life is meaningless. It lacks of passion. Love. Adventure. And you start to get wrinkles in the corners of your eyes and mouth. Your hair turns white and you skin is frail.
You can't sleep, for one thought haunts you:
*You haven't really lived.

I look up and see the wall
I see no way out
If I climb it, I fall
I can't do it, there's no doubt

I can't move forward
With this obstacle in my way
My chance of escaping this problem
Is so far away

When all hope is lost
I sat and I cried
I didn't know what to do
I couldn't because I didn't try

Little did I know
Waiting at the side was a door
Open and unlocked
I couldn't see it before

I took a step through
I entered and found the light
Who knew there are many ways
To move forward and fight

On every other line of our current world ,                                                              I read greatly and wonderfully words or                                                                Names written with capital letters anytime ...                                                       Death tolls are increasing everyday on all                                                              Levels and in all directions ,good or bad ...                                                            Our world has turned into an alien world                                                              That can not recognize between what is                                                                 Good or what is bad anywhere and everywhere ...                                               We only reap pains and sufferings everywhere .

Anxious,
It's new, it's vibrant,
It's so me!
Must have it.

Anxious,
It's cheap, it's art,
Won't fit!
Can't have it.

Anxiety born of greed,
Selfishness, social need.
Not one or two but all!
A bag, a coat, some plaid!

Obsessed beyond capability
Want all over budget,
"It's human nature!"
It's a sickness
A disease, born of riches.
Tired of wishes.

Photos, bookmarks,
Catalogues, webstores.
I am a victim.

Victim of need
Obsessive wish lists
To compensate
For a lack of attention with years
To go back.

-Kathia M. Landeros

Here's a story about how she's gone:

Once she said she doesn't fit anymore
Again she said she had been trying for too long
Thought someone would understand her but there was none
So she run, run, run and found herself running alone
She's wondering about her friends and parents and all
Her thoughts started to fill her mind and making herself drown
Drowning her down, down, and down

Anger and rage started to consume
Making herself looks like a fool
Realising she's just a burden
For her friends, parents, and all

She started to run, run, run and found an empty room
Inside there's a desk, chair, knife, and writing tools
She then begin to sit down
And tried to remember all her misfortunes
All her problems and insecurities
She's never going to fit in this huge world with perfect people
That was what's on her mind

Her trembling hands began to write
She was feeling more free and light
After what she had done

Looking at her body from above
She smiles so bright
She had write what needs to be written
Only a straight line on her skin
Straight through her vein
With red ink, leaving stain everywhere
And that was what she write; her own death

And that's the story about how she had gone.

The Problem with breaking your heart
is that you can't let it heal to someone else's frame.