Perfect

What is perfect?

I was having a conversation with a friend about this, about being perfect.

She said, “I have a problem with wanting to be perfect.”

I said, “There’s no such thing, my friend.”

There isn’t. There is only degrees of not sucking and what actually makes you happy.

I am not perfect. I have never been, nor will I ever be whatever this thing is known as perfect. I understand thisĀ and I also respect it. The idea of Perfect is as fictitious as Santa and the Easter Bunny. It is an unreachable goal created by our subconscious to constantly remind ourselves that low self-esteem is a way of life.

It’s not.

The land of perfect is a mirage, wrapped in wavy lines, sitting on a bed of sole searing sand. You’re feet will blister and peel–but you’ll never reach it.

There is great, beautiful, lovely, heart wrenching, mind blowing, pure ecstasy–but no perfect. There is success and failure–but still, no perfect.

Wonky, weird, strange, off-beat, eccentric, high strung, loud, quiet, shy, fat, skinny, tall, and short–that is the essence of what should be. Unique, that is perfect. Perfectly you.

Life is too short for unreachable goals.