Jan 20

Never Quite Perfect Enough


I don’t know why, but I put on these personas. The masks to hide true life.

The blurred faces in my memory aren’t showing any sign of becoming clear. And in this night the light burns on  the world. I know my fears, fears of having a normal life, I wish they would leave the forgotten me behind. I will meet the girls tonight,The one's who are so fake, barbie looks human to them. I will see the world through their eyes, if I can. In all this plastic I wish that I could blend, but maybe I am not perfect enough. But, that is how it is, isn’t it? Never quite perfect enough? And even if I was, would I still be insucure? Would I still take on these lives to try to convince myself that I am interesting? Why do I put the pressure on myself to be something when I know I'm not? The questions burn, like... just me, the me who can't accept herself. The one who is so insucure so self-aware and socially terrified to talk about herself that she isn't herself. If she ever even was. But, that's me. Never quite perfect enough.

 
About the Author: lila woodard
'But to make yourself feel nothing - so as not to feel anything - what a waste!' - Andre Aciman, Call Me By Your Name
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