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Rated: 13+ · Essay · Personal · #1128005
A personal essay about how we put so much effort into driving ourselves to the edge...
I will run, just as fast as I can, to the middle of nowhere,
To the middle of my frustrated fears, and I swear
You’re just like a pill—
Instead of making me better, you keep making me ill.
-“Pill,” by Alicia Moore, aka ‘Pink’

 
         Our society puts a tremendous amount of pressure on people to achieve perfection—or at least whatever the concept of perfection happens to be at any given moment. Some people handle the stress with remarkable grace, doing their best to fit into all of the obligatory molds without extreme emotional trauma over their shortcomings. Some people completely rebel against society’s expectations, preferring an intentional negative image created by nonconformity as opposed to the possibility of rejection of their attempts to “fit in.” Everyone has seen caricatures of these groups: they are the cheerleaders and the vamp chicks, the jocks and the skater punks, and they serve as stock characters in most forms of entertainment.
 
         But what about everyone else? What about everyone who wants desperately to be accepted but feels completely incapable of meeting any standard? While common sense tells us that absolute perfection is relatively impossible, we still push ourselves to achieve it. And when we inevitably fail in some way or another, we feel obligated to find a way to make up for it.
 
         If Alison can be just a little bit more fashionable, people will show more respect for her, so she turns up her nose at Wal-Mart and won’t wear anything without prominently displayed designer labels. If Jim can raise his batting average by just a little bit, then he’ll be admired, so he spends countless hours doing drills instead of hanging out with his friends. If Beth could lose that omnipresent “just five more pounds,” she’d be the most popular girl in school, so she replaces meals with diet coke and sugar-free gum—her appetite disappears, anyway, every time she sees the “disgusting” image in the mirror. If Charlie can act risky and daring, then he’ll impress “the cool kids,” so he steals cigarettes from gas stations and teases the special education kids while they wait at the bus stop.
 
         All of those people are running—running as fast as they can. They run until their lungs flame, until their legs turn to rubber, until every step jars them to the core. But they’re running towards the middle of nowhere. It’s ironic—despite the huge numbers of people that end up in the “middle of nowhere,” the landscape is always overwhelmingly desolate and lonely. The only companions available for someone in “the middle of nowhere” are the frustrated fears that drove them there in the first place.
 
         Similarly, our society loves pills. There are pills to help you get pregnant and pills to stop you from getting pregnant, pills to make your hair grow and pills to make your stomach shrink, pills to enhance memory and pills to kill foot fungus. It is hard to believe that everything can’t be fixed by gulping down “two tablets every four to six hours (as needed).” Our problem is that we use many other things as “pills.” Addictions come in all shapes and forms, and the search for the substance or person or feeling or place that will make us “better”—that will fill up the holes and make us whole instead—is an all too common theme.
 
         Though many people spend far too much of lives “running” laps and gulping “pills,” peace can be achieved once they slow down, catch their breath, and clear their minds. It has been my experience in life that sometimes you have to go to the “middle of nowhere” in order to gain an appreciation for being “somewhere.” It has been my experience that you have to choke on a few “pills” before you can learn to make healthier substitutes. It has been my experience that every person possesses the strength to turn around and “run” in the other direction, to toss the “pills” in the trash, and to conquer their frustrated fears. It has been my experience that being “ill” and sulking around in “the middle of nowhere” is never worth it—there are far too many other things—more worthwhile things—to experience in life.
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