Your Poetry Dot Com - How we are made to feel

In a world of competition, anger, greed, shallowness and confusion we try to find where we stand amongst it all.
We are labeled, stereotyped, we are told by others who we are.

We try so hard to fit in, but what are really really fitting into.
We want happiness, what is happiness ? Who are we to define what these words represent.
Watching videos and reading up on how to become happy, the rules to happiness. Who says that’s what happiness is.
We fall into a depression based on the things we don’t have, never focusing on what we do.
We are the cause of our own mind telling us we are in depression.

We base our emotions on what we see on social media, online, in magazines or on tv.
What our friends did over the weekend compared to ours.
Who said that sipping cocktails on a yacht in the Greek islands was better then sitting at home with a pizza playing video games.
We follow travel Instagram accounts that we envy wishing that was us. Wondering how to be in that position. Following celebrities because the life looks so glamours and amazing. Because they look more exciting then our own. People have more awerness on Kim bloody Kardashian then the fact that our oceans full of plastic killing animals daily.

We have money, but want more.
We have food in the cupboards, yet we say there’s no food or that we are hungry.
People are ashamed of their houses because they’re smaller then their friends.
Everything’s a competition.
Always fighting for the higher spot.
We’re human, we’ve been brought up thinking that more is always better.

People to afraid to talk to other people.
We are judge by appearance, not by who we are inside.
We are judge on colour of our skin, clothes, career choice, appearance, body markings, hair cuts and height.
I for one wish I was judged by who I am inside.
I may be extremely tall- that does not mean I play basketball this is a judgement that is purely based on something people have become to think that it’s a tall person sport.
What about the shorter girl who’s dream is to be a basketball player, she’s training day in day out, Are you going to tell that girl she’s too short and to give up.
What about the models that’s 7kgs over that refuses to loose weight and under 165cm are you going to tell her to give up, tell her she’s too fat and too short. We have so much awareness on woman’s domestic violence, what about the men. What about the men who deal with the violence of woman on a daily base. We live in a world where a woman’s word is more then a mans when it comes to abuse. How about the woman only gyms.... where are the men only gyms. Who says men don’t feel intimidated by women. We live in a world where we fight for equal rights. What’s equal about me living in a house covered by a roof, to the people who live under a bag of plastic under the stars. We put restrictions and images on everything and have created a world full of hate, labels, and mental health issues.

We are judged by the swipe of a finger left or right, how many likes on a photo or how we dress. Not on who we are, but what we look like.
Friends telling me they never thought I’d talk to them. When asked why, the response “girls like you, don’t talk to people like me”. This is not a compliment. This is an insult.
I don’t care who you are, what you’re into. If you’re nice to me I’ll be nice to you.
No one should ever feel ugly enough that they can’t talk to another person because they’re afraid that person is “prettier”.
My “look” doesn’t tell you I’m a huge nerd does it, it doesn’t tell you that I have a Batman & doughnut obsession, that i enjoy punk, rock and old 00’s music, it doesn’t tell you that I enjoy playing video games and reading comics, that I love drawing and writing poetry and other random stuff.

Crying in the mirror because we don’t have the ass that we think guys want, or the abs we think girls want.
There’s a saying you’re either a beauty or a brain. Who says you can’t be both.
I’ve never been one to open up, to let people in.
My emotions are a sesntive, I’m pretty open about not liking the world though.
I hate how we are. I hate that nothing changes.
There will always be another bullying sign but no end to bullying, another charity for the homeless- but still always a homeless person, another bottle of plastic -another sea creature dead, it’s a endless cycle of humans creating issue after issue. We are the creators of our own destiny, we are the destroyers of our world.
We give up to easily. Something breaks we get a new one, mobile smashed? No worries new ones on it’s way, plates smashed? Go buy a new set, relationship? Go find a new love. We stopped fixing things and started just getting new ones.

When’s enough?
What’s enough?
Who’s enough?

We lay awake the nights there’s too much on our minds. Eyes just wanting to close, but your mind taking control. You just want to forget it all, you can’t.
The more you think, the deeper you get.
This is the part of you that no one knows.

Sometimes you wish you could say something. You wish you could ask for help. You’re afraid.
Afraid that your problems are stupid. That you don’t want to bother anyone with them. That everyone has issues, they don’t need anymore put on them.
You need help, you know you do. You’re afraid, afraid of being vulnerable, afraid of opening up again only to be broken all over. To let someone in only for them too to leave.
You want to seem strong, fine, okay.
You’re not. You sit in your head daily, no one knows any different. You go home, it gets harder, you’re alone in your room. It’s quite. The thoughts come back.
How did I get here. Why aren’t I happy. Im not good enough. I want to be alone. I also want to be loved. The mind conflicting everything in your head. Afraid to let people in. The mind is a weapon. It will destroy you if you let it.

Everyone always asks how are you?
But no one ever asks are you happy?
We may live in a world where we are too afraid to give the real answer. We are made to think that life is supposed to be happy. I think life is supposed to be lived.
What you have in life doesn’t define who you are, it doesn’t make you anymore or less of a person. The most giving could be the poorest.

Everyone’s scared of something. In the end we are our own greatest fears.

This poem is Copyright ยฉ Lauranhyde