I hate that I cannot look like the bodies from the fiction I consume. The buff perfect image of masculinity. The big frame and muscles. Things I will never know, for my frame is too small. It's fascinating to understand that the size you can grow to is set in stone at the beginning of conception.
I want to slide my arms across my core and feel hard abs, not soft fat and skin. My arms are small and weak, as I pick up stuff around my house I can feel the weight shift from the hand into the shoulders and finally end at my soft chest. It's a constant emasculating feeling that stems from anything I do.
Sometimes I forget about it and try to do other things, but then I see my arms and I'm once again reminded that I will always be a boy. Not a man.
Thus I resign from the material and try to cultivate the soul instead. Despite my young age, I feel as though I was born a millennia ago, people comment on my wisdom but I disregard that empty flattery aside as to not indulge myself.
I must starve the primal wants and needs.
I want to slide my arms across my core and feel hard abs, not soft fat and skin. My arms are small and weak, as I pick up stuff around my house I can feel the weight shift from the hand into the shoulders and finally end at my soft chest. It's a constant emasculating feeling that stems from anything I do.
Sometimes I forget about it and try to do other things, but then I see my arms and I'm once again reminded that I will always be a boy. Not a man.
Thus I resign from the material and try to cultivate the soul instead. Despite my young age, I feel as though I was born a millennia ago, people comment on my wisdom but I disregard that empty flattery aside as to not indulge myself.
I must starve the primal wants and needs.
