I write because society demands numbers define people. I write because people are constantly defined by numbers. I write because we are all defined by numbers.


SAT, ACT, and GPA, were all too low for the exceptional expectations of a parents demanding domain. A boy, struggling for to just make his parents, a doctor and a lawyer, proud of their 3.7 grade point average, which isn’t good enough, went off the edge for them. Late nights and demanding deadlines were too much for the now 3.8. A parents ‘honor and pride’ slowly dwindling. Cheating, lying, scamming for new high grades only to be stopped dead in his tracks. Heart pounding in complete silence of class, a phone slowly slides form his sleeve containing the answers to his future, but a flick of the wrist and it hit the floor for all to see.  Kicked out of school, banned, permanent record just for an extra 100 on a test, a miniscule 0.1 added to an average GPA. The numbers were too far gone…


Height, weight, and BMI, were all out of proportion for the high school standards of the ‘perfect’ teenage girl. Near bulimic bodies of tall, tanned, teens scampering around the pathetic pool as one girl sat alone on the side lines. 5 foot 1 and 190 pounds was far too gone to be a part of the cool kids. Throwing up in a public bathroom and too many dietary were about to be taken. Numbers led to depression, depression caused scars, scars created pounds more make-up and pills. The razor flew across her arm as self-hatred fueled anger. Blood splattered the while tile floor slowly being diluted by the falling of tears. The numbers were too far gone…


Numbers of friends, followers, and reposts were the only goal of the late teen trying to prove himself in the jungle of a busy town. Spreading himself too thin to go to parties thrown by people he will never get to know to say he was their friend and add them on yet another social network. Late nights and early mornings were required to reach the top of the social ladder. More friends and more followers were necessary for the perfect profile. A social network unlike any ever seen. However, it was completely useless after he took the first pill he was slipped for ‘strength’. Speed rushed through his busy body, making it impossible for him to stop or sleep. A social climb unlike any ever seen, but it only lasted a few weeks before the blinking red lights would carry him away to a white room with white walls to reveal the truth; he was addicted to attention and drugs, social networks and scandals. He wanted so many views, so many friends, so many followers, but the numbers were too far gone.


What you make is who you are. The problem is, most people consider your income as what you make. It’s what you create, that makes you who you are. I write so the boy who just wanted to make his parents proud won’t turn the other cheek to the rules that bind us down. I write so he has something to calm him down before it’s all too late. I write so the girl that wants to be popular won’t try to beat herself up to get there. I write so she will see how beautiful she is and that if she is herself, she will be loved. I write because a website should never make a decision for you. I write so the man who went over the edge would stop and see that it’s not the number of friends, but the words you exchange with the few friends you trust. I write so I can be that friend to anyone that needs it.


I write because numbers should never define anyone. Only words should define who we are. 


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