Imperfect.

It’s widely accepted that nobody is perfect, right?

It’s solid advice, but let’s be honest, little quips like “nobody is perfect” don’t hold much weight to a concrete self-hatred, do they?

When comparing yourself to others (as people often do to validate their self-worth), it’s easy to see the people around you as higher beings – nay, perfect beings. Maybe their teeth are whiter, their skin is clearer or they have more likes and followers.

I think that the way our superficial society works at the moment condemns people who don’t obsess over their appearance to a life of poignant acceptance, what with social media’s obsession with symmetry and rewarding internet points to people born with high metabolism and nice eyes.

After a while, one gets used to the endless amount of beautiful humans the internet shoves into your face like a parent forcing vegetables into a child’s mouth.

 

Well, folks, I’m here to say fuck the vegetables.

The vegetables suck and frankly, I don’t want ’em.

 

Maybe I want to like the way my hair gets messy in the morning.

Maybe I want to like the way my terrible sleep schedule makes my dark under-eyes resemble that of a raccoon.

Maybe I want to like the way my body is shaped to model something of a grizzly bear.

Maybe I just want to be happy with who I am and not have to change the way I live to gain the respect of others.

 

The worst part of all this is that the perfect people – the higher beings – they have to live on the same fucking wavelength because somewhere, someone is more perfect than them. Someone out there has a stronger jawline or a nicer smile; so they get thrown into the exact same pile the rest of us have to live in.

I think that the saying “nobody is perfect” has become less of an inspiring quote and more of a thing you’d find on a mum’s facebook page alongside “you wouldn’t like me before my coffee!” and “live laugh love”

Something like “Everybody is imperfect” packs a bit more punch. I dunno, I’ll think of something and email the celestial beings to permanently change the saying.

 

At any rate, dear readers, don’t be glum because you’ve got some acne scars or an abnormally large nose
Be glum because of the impending heat death of the universe
or the intense meaningless-ness of life
or the irreversible damage to our planet

don’t be worked up about how you were born. be worked up about the world you were born into. at least you can do something about that.