The Perfect Me

Once I thought it would be nice to be perfect. Now I'm glad I'm not, because if I was perfect, I would be expected to do great things. Things that would change the world instead of changing human lives.

If I was perfect, I would already have a second job and be in the process of finding a third instead of planning summer adventures with long-lost friends, relatives, past teachers, and people I've only met twice.

If I was perfect, people wouldn't criticize me. They wouldn't be able to say I was doing anything wrong, but they wouldn't be able to tell me what I was doing right, either. I would never be rejected and I would never be accepted.

The perfect me would never have lopsided curls and her glasses would be centered on her face. Actually, she probably wouldn't have glasses and her hair would be straight as a stick. But I like my curly hair and I don't like cliches.

If I was perfect I would never have to use the eraser on my pencil, so I'd use pen and then everything would be permanent.

The perfect me would have a pair of shoes for every day of the month and she'd never go barefoot because she couldn't let the bottoms of her feet be blackened by dirt or asphalt.

If I was perfect people would say they wanted to be my friend but no one would ever make an effort to be. I would be indescribably lonely.

If I was perfect, I wouldn't have anyone, because even if two people are perfect, that doesn't mean they will be perfect together.

The perfect me would be intimidating and unapproachable, and people would probably think she was stuck-up.

The perfect me would never go to the aquarium or the zoo or an amusement park because successful people know that those are a waste of time and money. They forget that some memories are priceless.

The perfect me would get a master's degree in family law and get married immediately thereafter to a man she thought would make her happy. She'd have two wonderfully well-behaved children, a boy and a girl, who had everything but at the same time had nothing because their parents were too busy making money to make friends with their own children.

If I was perfect I wouldn't spend time every day walking in freezing cold water and letting mud squish between my toes. I wouldn't ask anyone to meet me there to just talk, because I wouldn't understand the value of understanding.

The perfect me wouldn't ever lose her wallet or her cell phone or her bobby pins because everything would always be in its place.

If I was perfect, people would pay attention to everything I do wrong and forget to focus on what I do right.

If I was perfect, I would be pretending. I would pretend that my perfection was worth my isolation when really it wasn't.

The perfect me would never know what she was missing out on. She wouldn't feel sad, but she wouldn't feel happy. She wouldn't understand the way the world really works and she wouldn't understand herself. She wouldn't know that beauty is found in imperfection.

If I was perfect, I would never start laughing while drinking soda and I wouldn't spill anything. I'd stop tripping over my own feet.

If I was perfect, I would be irrecoverably flawed. I'd be skinny to a fault and forever worried about my appearance.

If I was perfect, the only thing I would regret is everything.

The perfect me would be someone people praised but nobody actually talked to.

If I was perfect, I wouldn't be able to appreciate the bruised and broken things because I would never see them.

If I was perfect, I'd never be able to love myself because I wouldn't know what I was supposed to love.

If I was perfect, I wouldn't be real.


Because imperfections are beautiful and imperfect people are more inspiring than perfect ones because of the way they deal with their imperfections. Perfection isn't worth the heartache that inevitably will follow. And that's all right with me because I may not be perfect, but I'm worth it.