Too Much Perfection Is Imperfect

01// perfectus

          Your eyes, they've sighted the most agonising things anyone can. They hold specks of despair, they hold beams of faint sunshine, they hold the achromatic colors of your guilt, they hold the sparkle of your imperfections and they hold the glint of your happiness.

          You heart, it's wounded with a million scars because of unforgiven and unforgotten words they spoke, it's sewn by the people you love the most in this world, it has locked doors for the people who've left you, it has empty holes waiting to be filled in, and it has a million seeds sowed in the shape of a million promises - waiting to be watered and fulfilled.

          Your mind, it's chained to your past all the time, it has a million butterflies fluttering everytime you daydream, it has a bunch of dandelions you blow and wish upon, it has the most beautiful pictures of castles and fairy tales everyone has ever imagined, it holds the fear of the future and the worry of the present.

          I have often heard people saying that they're perfectionists. What is a perfectionist? Moreover, what is perfect? What is actually meant by this world? To society, it's something you should meet if you want to be treated like royals. But actually, it isn't a standard, it's merely what your eyes see, what your heart feels and what your mind thinks about.

          You see something beautiful, your heart erupts with a bunch of butterflies, enchanted by its beauty and your mind swarms with words of admiration.

          That is perfect.

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