Yes, you signed up for speeches the moment you started reading this story.
I was chatting with a reader when suddenly I thought, what is perfect?
Perfect
Verb
ˈpəːfɪkt/Make (something) completely free from faults or defects; make as good as possible.
So, that is the definition. But what if we change it? Like, everyone has their own state of mind and it's completely okay to see things a different way, right?
So, what if we start thinking of ourselves as, perfect? Sure, I'm broken, torn apart, kind, helpful, talented, insecure, a little attractive, smart, stupid, childish yet mature, but that's my perfect, right?
I am perfect because I wouldn't want to change anything about myself. Because why would I want someone else's identify, when I have my own? Why would I want to be someone that I wished to be, but know would fail at it?
Like, bitch, I wanna be Liza Koshy, or Lilly Singh, but I would suck as them, because I am not them. I could never be them. Why would I fail at being someone else, when I could be a fucking expert at being myself. Like, bitch, I know myself from head to toe, that makes me a goddamn genius. That makes me fucking perfect 😒
So, wait, doesn't that make you perfect too?
What if you saw your flaws as perfection? As long as you're healthy, hardworking, and successful, you got power 😏 end up being your bully's boss 😏 because you're perfect, your flaws are perfect, and your smile, is perfect.
What else makes you perfect?
YOU ARE READING
The Book Of Beautiful Souls
AléatoireA collection of stories my beautiful readers went through. This is written to make people realize that they're not alone and that we do care ❤