Distorted World View

Writing prompt from The Daily Post: Today, write about any topic you feel like — but you must reuse your opening line (at least) two more times in the course of your post.

I grew up with a distorted view of the world. To me, seeing others inflicting pain upon another is funny. You know that show where the cat and mouse try to kill one another? That’s enough to make my stomach hurt from laughing for a week. And there must be twenty or so volumes of that. I so love it when that huge, gray bulldog joins in and wrestles the cat. But nothing’s funnier than that little kid who was accidentally left at home during a Christmas getaway setting up traps against intruders, punching and kicking them in the balls if confrontation needed be.

I grew up with a distorted view of the world. Real beauty in my world means ten layers of face paint, long, fake eyelashes, and blood red lipstick that would stay on the face for a month. Real beauty means perfection beyond reach.

I grew up with a distorted view of the world. Maintaining a slim figure is of utmost importance that it’s okay to risk ulcer, to force oneself to throw up, to take slimming pills, drink slimming tea and exercise 24/7 just to reach that ideal body size. And fat people? They better not existed; they’re not magazine quality, never going to be. Oh well, they might. Thanks, photo editors.

I grew up with a distorted view of the world. I was taught to do good because to not do good means to face eternal punishment down below where there is nothing but fire. I was taught to do good so I can reap eternal rewards up there when the judgment day comes.

I grew up with a distorted view of the world. And while I liberated myself from the views I have grown up with, I wish to see others still trapped in the prevailing view to step out and embrace a more accepting, a more humane, a more equal world.

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Author:

I don't know who I am, and that is why I write.

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