I was so eager to conduct a post on beating self esteem issues, on how our lives are not defined by numbers, on how to tackle body war's...
And then I discovered I would be sat behind a screen, spouting all this hackneyed advice that was cut and pristine. That I would have worried and stressed over. And that someone would read, and not be inspired by.

"We live in a demanding world, where we are asked to succumb to society's bikney clad women and perfectly chiseled men. Life is not a magazine cover. It's what is inside the magazine that matters..." No. Zainab, you really need to stop.

I again will mention that I am not a person who has experienced everything and anything. Like everyone else, I have my terribly insecure moments (days) (weeks) (sometimes, they last for months!). Of course, I greatly care about how I look. But in no way am I able to speak for everyone. I have never suffered from an eating or mental or physical disorder. So if I get my facts wrong, please do forgive, I am a hugely and stupidly opinionated person and the only way I can communicate is by just putting it all down and hoping for the best.

In most cases, I am not obsessed with the way I look. Sometimes I'll get little physical things I'll get a little upset about it but nothing that can't be solved. I don't wear make-up on a daily basis. I slap on whatever my sister has in her make-up bag on occasions. I have no idea what contour means although I think it maybe is something that Kim Kardashian is doing very well (as my sister once attempted to discuss with me one dry, sunny morning).

[It is not wrong to care about the way you look, if you enjoy basking in beauty products and make-up tutorials on YouTube, then that's great!]

My problem can be summed up in three very short and straight-forward statements that are now probably tattooed onto my skin. Knitted into my mind. Burned into my retina.

1. I am not good enough.
2. I can't do this.
3. I wish I could be more [I wish I could be better].

And there we have it, ladies and gentlemen. My agile and vile enemy - self doubt. They told me to keep my friends close, and my enemies closer. And that's exactly what I did.

There's a verse in Arcade Fire's 2007 hit "My Body Is A Cage" that says;
"I'm standing on a stage
Of fear and self-doubt
It's a hollow play
But they'll clap anyway"

Fundamentally, I guess this came onto my playlist this morning and I, for a few moments, identified with it enough to name my post "My body is a cage".
My body (+ my mind) feel like a cage with the cage's door wide open. And I'm glued onto the floor of the cage.
Because I have all those opportunities and chances, I just never feel enough for them. Just a few weeks back, I got asked to take part in a really exciting project with some really amazing young poets and a chance to work on something awesome with them. It was a visual, creative, artistic dream that would have me deep in words for a few weeks. At the end of the project, you were required to do open mic...that's when my stomach fell, when my lungs shivered in fright and when every single part of my body clenched with trepidation.

And I just immediately thought; Fuck no.

See, you could ask how I feel about my body and my hair and my lip colour and I would give you a careless shrug. There were so many more important things in the world to me then if my eyebrows were shaped perfectly or if my nails were painted. If you asked me how I felt about my voice, every single part of my body would immediately fill with angst. I could never be adequate in anything that involved me speaking. If my voice was a person, I terribly regret to say that I would move countries just to be away from it. If my voice was a package, I would ship it to Mars and label it with "NOT fragile. Please destroy.".
I have a terrible voice. It panics me to use it often. To have to live with it. It feels like it's a huge red flag, a threat, a barrier between me and everything I want.
At the end, I had to say no to being involved in the project because of circumstances and not my voice or the dread that tingled at my fingers when I thought about public speaking.
I spent days and days thinking; Thank god, I said "No". Thank god nobody had to deal with pretending I was satisfactory enough or having to privately deal with their regrets at asking me to particapate. I felt good - I had spared everybody from my terrible curse! And then there was the practical, unbiased and fairly loving part of me that was filled with remorse. I loved words, even if I wasn't good at using them, and here was the chance to slip into a vortex of language and I had politely declined. I had let go of something that could have been really good.

I am defined by "Un" - I'm unoriginal, unoriented, unanchored, unappealable, unapproachable,unartistic...my eyes are now so blinded by the Un's, the no's, the "I can't"'s, that it's becoming harder and harder to see what I can actually do.

Like the majority of the population, I don't seem to have an obvious talent. Something I can excel in. Be incredible at. I'm okay academeically. As soon as I leave school, my teachers will fail to remember my name. I'm never going to change or save someones life. Nobody is going to think greatly of me or recall me. I'm not known for being insanely good at something. I am a nobody in a sea of somebodies.
And the scary thing is - it's okay. I accept it. Everyday I go to school and I sit in lessons and I joke and gossip with my friends. And I know that I'm going to amount to probably nothing. I want a lot, but need a little.

It's now becoming hard for me to think my dreams are achievable. They're just that - figures of my daring imagination. I want to do this and this and this, and I'm not going to. And that's okay.

I really don't want to accept it anymore. I want more for myself. But I am far too scared because remember my virtues? I am not good enough for more, I can't do more, I want more but probably won't get it. I am not able to be satisfactory for anybody and that definitely includes myself. Enjoying somethings leads to bitterness; to the heavy feeling of not doing it justice. It's so easy to appear confident and uncomplicated over the internet, when in reality even writing this makes me think of all the flaws in the details. I, for example, seem to find it impossible to collect my ideas into one post. This post had one objective, and ended up being a huge, unwanted rambling mess. And now I'm scared to clean up my mess.

It's a blur between what I want and what I need.

Over time, we become consumed by needs. What was an ember of want is now a fire of need. When we were younger, if we wanted something and were refused it, the burning anger and fury would make us believe we needed it. That it was almost a basic life necessity and to be refused it was unimaginably cruel. In fact, it's not just when we were younger, it happens now too.

When in fact, life boils down the simplest of needs; food, water, someone to love and care about who will vice versa do the same for us (whether that be a friend or a partner or a family member) and perhaps some clothes. Sure, we could live our lives just off those four needs.

But you'd need someone to grow or make the food. You'd need someone that could make sure the water was actually safe to drink. You need someone affectionate and loving. You need to someone to make your clothes and grow the cotton and...you need other people. And these other people are made by other people who were also in turn made by other people who were also...

The #1 need of life: The world.
The #2 need of life: Us. Human beings.

I have to look into myself to find the way out. Maybe, I'll find a way to fight for what I desire and yearn, instead of being safe and expected all the time. I'm learning how to peel of the label "Not good enough" because what is enough?
Atelophobia is the fear of imperfection. The fear of never being good enough. For a while it's been my boyfriend. But I think it's time, I changed our relationship status from "It's complicated" to "Mate, it's over".

So I leave you with the words of The Lumineers; It's better to feel pain than nothing at all.