Perfect

It’s something everyone wants to hear but doesn’t want to tell to others. Why is that? Is it because we demand perfection but have differing views of perfection? Or is it the imperfection that we want to cleanse from our views? Does that make us perfect? How can one word hold so much power over a soul? Have, no true meaning? Where does life become a fight against the world, to a fight with oneself, to become something that’s not in their nature? The meaning of Life isn’t to find yourself, it’s to create yourself? An individual, the genuine article, something so unique it’s sought after by all others. Life isn’t easy, the one bit of truth your exposed to as a child. When does being perfect and being true ever cross one another? How can something be perfect in the vision of something imperfect?