I’m too conceited.
I’m too fat.
I’m too skinny.
I’m too boring.
I’m too immature.
I’m too stuck up.
I’m too insecure.
I’m too lazy.
I’m too ambitious.
I care too much.
I don’t care enough.
I’m not perfect.
I write something in my notebook, no one will see it, my handwriting looks weird, not good enough, I rip the paper out and start over again. I can’t seem to get my handwriting to turn out the way it “should” look. I lose all inspiration and stop writing. It’s not perfect.
I need to take pictures for my blog post. I spend hours looking up inspiration online, I spend money on supplies, I spend hours trying to get the perfect picture. The lighting isn’t right, it doesn’t look like everyone else’s pictures, it’s not good enough. I spend hours editing, trying to make it look as perfect as possible. It never does look perfect. It won’t be perfect.
I look in the mirror, I need to do my makeup. There’s a pimple on my face, one small stupid pimple. I can’t do my makeup, that pimple ruins it all. That one stupid pimple makes doing my makeup pointless, I’ll look horrible regardless. I walk away and head straight for my bed to hide under my blanket, I can’t stand to look at myself. I’m not perfect.
I’m feeling myself for a moment, my hair looks good, my outfit looks cute, I did my makeup right, everything is perfect. Let’s take a picture, show the world how “perfect” I am. Two hours later and I’m sitting on the bathroom floor crying, none of the pictures are perfect. My eye looks funny in that one, I look fat in another. Why does my face look so stupid? Why am I not perfect?
I sit down and look at my legs. They look too big, so does my stomach, when did I get so fat? I start to get anxious, I need to go home and workout until it hurts to move. I exercise and look in the mirror and all I can see is my legs, how big they look, my stomach isn’t flat enough. Why can’t I just be perfect?
I say the wrong thing, someone gets hurt, someone gets mad, the conversation ends, I lose a friend. I spend hours, days going over the conversation I had, over analyzing everything I said, everything they said, trying to figure out where I went wrong, what went wrong. What if I didn’t say that? What if I said something else instead. Why do I manage to ruin everything?
I’m not perfect.
I do the wrong thing, someone is mad, I hurt someone somehow. I think about what I did for days. I spend sleepless nights filled with regret, trying to work out how I can fix it, what I could have done instead to prevent it from happening. What if I just did the right thing? What if things turned out different? Why can’t I do anything right? I’ll never be perfect.
I forget to take care of myself because I’m too worried about being perfect. I forget to eat, I intentionally skip meals. I stay up too late to get stuff done, I can’t sleep because I’m anxious. I wake up early to try to fit as much into the day as possible, afraid I’ll miss out on an opportunity to prove to the world that “I got this”, that I’m perfect. I spend every second of the day making sure that I appear perfect, regardless of how I feel.
It took a long time but I realized I’m unhappy because I’m looking for perfection in things that are meant to be imperfect. I’m looking for answers to questions that don’t need to be solved. I spend way too much time over analyzing things. My life is filled with too many “what ifs?”.
My unattainable goal of perfection in everything has ruined so much for me. Chances not taken because the timing wasn’t perfect. Relationships ruined because I thought I wasn’t perfect, they weren’t perfect. Assignments late because nothing I could ever do was good enough. Nothing was ever going to be perfect.
I’ve spent too much time trying to answer questions that don’t need to be answered. I’ve spent way too much time over analyzing things that don’t need to be analyzed.
So go ahead, think that I’m perfect, tell me I’m perfect, but you’ll realize soon enough, that I’m not perfect at all and that’s okay. Being perfect is impossible, no body is. I’m still struggling to understand this, to accept it. To accept being imperfect.
I stay up too late, I forget to call my parents, I say stupid things sometimes, I look like a slob 99% of the time, I can’t cook, I hate cleaning, I’m selfish sometimes, I show up late, I skip workouts. I get sad, I get angry, I lack motivation sometimes, I don’t always do the right thing.
But I don’t need to be happy all the time, I’m allowed to make mistakes, I’m allowed to slip up, I don’t need to do everything, I don’t need to be perfect. I don’t need to put my own happiness aside to reach some ridiculous goal of “pure perfection”.
Even writing and publishing this post is so difficult because it goes against everything I think; I don’t want anyone to see how imperfect I am, how imperfect this post is.
I’m treating this post as the first step in my attempt to accept that everything and everyone, including myself is not perfect and never will be.
To everyone reading this, it’s okay to be yourself, it’s okay to be a mess, it’s okay to make mistakes, it’s okay to be imperfect. Just be yourself always. Stop wasting time trying to impress everyone around you, spend more time enjoying life and the things you love.
I’m going to stop trying to be perfect and start loving my imperfect self unconditionally, and I can only hope that everyone else does the same. Because honestly, take it from someone who has risked her own happiness for perfection every second of her life, it’s not worth it, it’s never worth it, and it never will be worth it.
I love you all.
Thanks for reading!
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