“I just want to die!”, anyone who knew me well could identify me with those words, especially when life slaps me hard across both cheeks leaving scars. Visibly.
“You know, your imperfections doesn’t make you less of who you are, it only makes you vulnerable to mistakes, which is good because you get to learn and become better”, her smile broadened, as she nudged me in front of the mirror, “that’s what being perfect is all about”.
“It’s just…my…shoes don’t match with the dress! Even the dress looks rumpled already…my hair is a mess…and i can’t find those files. Why does it always have to be like this?! My voice isn’t even sounding normal anymore! I give up! I give up! “, i stuttered, pacing around the room trying to find nothing in particular.
“You’re scared. You feel no one will listen to you. That’s why you hide under that shadow of imperfection and wear failure like a crown…right?”, her eyes searched my soul, leaving me horrified by the words she wasn’t saying, and within flashes i found myself in hell and back.
I knew she was saying the truth, and choosing to accept it means deciding to step out of my fears, but right there all i did was stare at my reflection in the mirror.
Just like am doing now, this time…imperfectly perfect.