Memoirs Of A Teenage Heart

Imaginary Perfection

I'd like to rant about peoples endless and futile search for an imaginary perfection.

It's amazing how many people are unhappy with the way they are, and how they fill their heads with this idea of how it is meant to be, of how their lives should be, of how they should look.

The sad part is that this is exactly what it is.

An idea. 

It isn't a real thing, there is no such thing as perfection. It quite simply doesn't exist. And I find it tragic how many people search for something that they'll never find. How they aspire to be less than they are now, that they aspire to be an idea.

The problem with ideas, is that they aren't a physical thing, you cannot be an idea. It just isn't possible. And this idea is souly based off of opinion, and opinions hurt.

It is only by how we interpret these opinions and ideas that we can truly find solace and peace within ourselves and how we are. We don't need to chase these ideas, that's what dreams are for; Chasing the impossible, and living it where you can't be damaged or destroyed. The conscious world is already fraught with enough dangers, we don't need to add more, however we do anyway. It is by are harshness and quickness to judge that we feel the need to be what we're not in the first place. That we feel to be human, we must be this idea of what human is, instead of the real thing. Because we are blinded by this ruthless need to be that which is desirable.