E•qual: adjective
Being the same in quantity, size, degree, or value.
A person or thing considered to be the same as another in status or quality.
I personally would blame equality. Imagine if this society would stop thinking about the color, gender, and rich or not. If this world would stop judging for pathetic things we would be happier and we would not be depressed. If people look at us and judge us for something we aren’t we will look back at the characteristics we don’t have, either being white, being pretty, or even being skinny. The girls in this society especially are being felt depressed or upset with the commercials that have perfect girls with no flaws and when they look in the mirror they hate what they see. Not just that but being bought down due to their weight too. The world also screws with our emotions when we know we won’t ever be like them. If we could share and if we would all are nice to each other rather than looking for the looks, maybe we’d be happier. We all should treat one another fairly.
Story time
I ran into my room and shut my door, screaming and crying was all being heard in this house. I was different. Really different, but that didn’t mean I was supposed to be treated like this. I was bought into my room like always. All my room contained was a wall full of mirrors hiding everything. Whenever I landed into my room I would see me. Nothing more, she wanted me to shame me about how I looked. It wasn’t my fault. I’m Emily; I have straight black long hair. I have Tics Disorder. I began slowly crying while watching myself in the mirror. I wish I was somebody else I thought. I then had enough I wanted myself to be normal and pretty. I wanted to be a pretty girl. I ran out of my room and went into my mother’s room and grabbed her makeup supplies. Christmas was cornering and I wanted to be prepared, I was the only child and would always get spoiled on that day. I was excited. I continued to get the makeup and went to my room. I carefully put the foundation and concealer on my pale face. I then applied my blush and mascara and eyeliner. I looked prettier than I usually do. I then washed my face; I knew I couldn’t keep it on. If my mom would see she would freak out. I ran into my covers and slowly lost conscious. I dreamt of Christmas. I woke up in the fire, I screamed and hollered. I knew I was going to die. I was too young though. I tried getting out but just couldn’t. I dropped to the ground and woke up in the hospital bed. I looked around trying to get used to my surrounding until I saw my mother crying next to me. “I’m so sorry, I love you for everything and you are my everything forgive me please” She said. I stared at her for a long minute then said “Okay” I didn’t know what else to say. Then my vision slowly started fading. “I shouldn’t have done that to her since she is going away.” I thought to my mind, did she say that since I was dying? Why she didn’t care was just because of how I looked? I mean she never treated my brother like that. Oh well I will be in a better place. I said and closed my eyes and drifted away from the pain.
This story was supposed to explain that her mother didn’t care about her because of something she had no part of. She then cared at the end, which really didn’t matter because Emily was in a way better place.
Being the same in quantity, size, degree, or value.
A person or thing considered to be the same as another in status or quality.
I personally would blame equality. Imagine if this society would stop thinking about the color, gender, and rich or not. If this world would stop judging for pathetic things we would be happier and we would not be depressed. If people look at us and judge us for something we aren’t we will look back at the characteristics we don’t have, either being white, being pretty, or even being skinny. The girls in this society especially are being felt depressed or upset with the commercials that have perfect girls with no flaws and when they look in the mirror they hate what they see. Not just that but being bought down due to their weight too. The world also screws with our emotions when we know we won’t ever be like them. If we could share and if we would all are nice to each other rather than looking for the looks, maybe we’d be happier. We all should treat one another fairly.
Story time
I ran into my room and shut my door, screaming and crying was all being heard in this house. I was different. Really different, but that didn’t mean I was supposed to be treated like this. I was bought into my room like always. All my room contained was a wall full of mirrors hiding everything. Whenever I landed into my room I would see me. Nothing more, she wanted me to shame me about how I looked. It wasn’t my fault. I’m Emily; I have straight black long hair. I have Tics Disorder. I began slowly crying while watching myself in the mirror. I wish I was somebody else I thought. I then had enough I wanted myself to be normal and pretty. I wanted to be a pretty girl. I ran out of my room and went into my mother’s room and grabbed her makeup supplies. Christmas was cornering and I wanted to be prepared, I was the only child and would always get spoiled on that day. I was excited. I continued to get the makeup and went to my room. I carefully put the foundation and concealer on my pale face. I then applied my blush and mascara and eyeliner. I looked prettier than I usually do. I then washed my face; I knew I couldn’t keep it on. If my mom would see she would freak out. I ran into my covers and slowly lost conscious. I dreamt of Christmas. I woke up in the fire, I screamed and hollered. I knew I was going to die. I was too young though. I tried getting out but just couldn’t. I dropped to the ground and woke up in the hospital bed. I looked around trying to get used to my surrounding until I saw my mother crying next to me. “I’m so sorry, I love you for everything and you are my everything forgive me please” She said. I stared at her for a long minute then said “Okay” I didn’t know what else to say. Then my vision slowly started fading. “I shouldn’t have done that to her since she is going away.” I thought to my mind, did she say that since I was dying? Why she didn’t care was just because of how I looked? I mean she never treated my brother like that. Oh well I will be in a better place. I said and closed my eyes and drifted away from the pain.
This story was supposed to explain that her mother didn’t care about her because of something she had no part of. She then cared at the end, which really didn’t matter because Emily was in a way better place.