The word flawless is thrown around and I'm not one to be touched on easily. If you want to make my eyes wide and my jaw drop then call me improbable or delicate because those words are true. Flawless lies on the tip of my tongue struggling to escape, begging to run for the mere fact that it even knows how untrue it is. I am perfectly flawed with my mess of hair and obnoxious habit of talking faster than my thoughts. My temper is overflowing in my veins and I don't know how to make it seize. My cheeks are too round for my face and i stumble over the dust on the ground. None of these are flawless.
My GPA may be a bit over half of 4.0 but I am intelligent beyond my years and I have a town full of people that can promise you that. They will describe me in negative and positive ways, use a thousand words and I can guarantee none of those words will be flawless.
Flawless is the hours of airbrush used on women in Seventeen Magazine. It is your favroite fictional charaters in every story you have ever read. It is the first word your ex boyfriend used to compliment you when you were fifteen. But flawless is not me. I am so much more than an overused word.