This is for all the times I sat down at
a table with my planner wide open,
with papers and pens of different shapes,
sizes, and colors scattered around.
My head lowered into my hands with tears
streaming down my face, trying to organize
my life into this perfect little box but failing
miserably. Completely unaware of the
beautiful mess I have created.
This is for all the times I have sat in front of my therapist,
spilling my guts out to her, telling her of my desires to be
perfect. Telling her I wanted to be untouchable.
She’d look back at me with sympathetic eyes and
utter the words ‘perfection is unattainable.
This is for all the times I would sit back,
with a blank look on my face, all the while
feeling as if she just struck me in the chest with a knife.
I would hold back the tears that were threatening to spill,
wishing she’d take her words back but knowing she utter the truth.
Wondering if it was God himself that lay those same words on her
tongue to speak. My mother always said 'tell the truth and the truth
will set you free’. I rather lie. I rather lie if it means that I am one step closer to perfection. I rather lie if it’ll make me believe that one day, I can attain the unattainable.
This is for all the times when I felt trap,
but did absolutely nothing about it because I wanted to be a certain way.It’s for all the times when I could have been set free,
but I accepted societies words as the truth,
It’s for all the times that I’ve felt choked up, felt
societies hands at my throat and still refuse to let go
of the ideal of perfection.
This is for now, when I have finally realized that
I have been chasing something that I will never get.
When I have finally realize that I have been running
a race whose finish line I will never cross.
This is for the times to come when I will be overcome with
an this unbelievable sense of sadness when I will see someone I
perceive as perfect and think I will never be it.
This is or all the times to come when I will stop comparing
myself to others, stop chasing perfection and remember that
no man is perfect. I will remember that we were all made with
flaws, and even the so call perfect people I admire have flaws.
I will remember that I am a mess, a beautiful mess, that has so much worth.I will remember that my laugh can heal broken souls, and my heart, warm as it is, can melt cold hearts, and my spirit can lift and inspire.
I am perfectly imperfect, and that is a perfection of it’s own.