“Clink”, “clink”, “clink” is echoed as they pick apart at their own flaws and imperfections. Digging, hurling, and tossing about through their own inadequacies. A domino effect commences once they begin tasting the addiction of pulling apart their body and mentality. They cannot possibly block the ever moving train of idealism. They want so dreadfully to be crawling across the cover of perfectness; instead, they discover themselves slumming around in idle pools of self-obsession. It’s exclusively murky and ominous in those depths; however, the light of the inhabitant’s enormous desire to swim to the top, where crystal clear water awaits, peeks through. There is a considerable need to become the girl with the daring smile or the dancer with fluid confidence or even the model with the stunning figure. There is a decisive amount of want filled in those pathetic ponds.
They are so entirely desperate. It’s nearly laughable. So desperate that they will go to great lengths which result in self-obsession. “They” are me. Me, tearing apart at any flaw reflected. “They” are you. Destroying any confidence you had left. You know exactly what it’s like, “you’re a human- you should understand self-obsession” (Zusak 307). It surrounds you every day. “They” are in you, in me. “They” dwell inside everyone. Sometimes we like to pretend they don’t exist. That we’re free of personal persecution. That we aren’t worried about how we appear in front of a mirror, or how we stutter before a crowd. That’s a lie, we are all upset and notice our insecurities. We destroy anything that’s left scrounging around. Searching. Our own self-obsession is what withholds us from our fullest potential at perfection. As a society, we constantly defend ourselves from harm. As an individual, well, that’s what drives us. We want to be hurt, to experience some sort of agony. Because the pain is what we feel. And boy do we want to feel.