"What is perfect? I doubt I'll ever be it..."
All my life, I struggled with the want or need for perfection and just plain normality but it's like as if I was not meant to be just that. I didn't have what it takes, i guess. All around me, I see people doing normal things and holding normal conversations, even my own family. However, when you compare the way I act, with the way everyone else acts, obviously you can tell that I'm the one doing something wrong here.
One day, I just wish I can become perfect, it's all that's on my mind.
I stand outside my home broken and shattered, who I am I don't know. I stare at my ever pale hands and try to see what made me like this from under my skin, but I guess I wasn't given that kind of gift but I have in me some form of powers that seemed to have brought me misfortune.
I owe this all to my dad because if he never met my mom maybe just maybe I would have been born normal. I wish I wasn't born a freak, born a hybrid.