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Nobody's Perfect...Not Even Me

12:01 AM

It is easier to be honest with someone about their shortcomings than it is to be honest with yourself about your own. This isn't a secret, this isn't news to any of us. We fear holding up a mirror and looking in it because of what might be staring back at us. I believe that when I write, I give the impression that I am holding up a mirror, looking directly into it, and telling you what is wrong with me. I can sometimes be transparent, or at least seem like I am. I've worked hard at this. It was my plan to do this so that people wouldn't try to figure me out. If they started picking me apart, they'd see my flaws. Not the flaws that I push to the front, but the ones that I bury deep down, the ones that would force me to face the facts that I always  seem to turn away from.

Let me tell you a short story that could potentially turn into a long story. I met a guy when I was fifteen. We became friends, nothing special, just friends. Around this time, I was really working on my perfect persona. I didn't use profanity around him, when he told me he liked my voice I made sure to always speak that way, even when I wanted to raise my voice, I didn't. Anyway, he and I grew closer, because I had become what he wanted me to be, I'd become perfect, for him. But that shit became exhausting, and it became really clear that I had to stop working hard to be what I believed he wanted me to be. Long story short, we grew apart once I showed him that I didn't fit into the pretty little box he tried to put me in. We talk twice a year and that's only because I check to make sure he's still alive. I'm disappointed every time he says he's doing well. I don't wish anything bad on him, but it wouldn't hurt if his life was at least a little shitty.

I decided to show him just who I was, which wasn't much different from who I made him believe I was. 

In the end, I held up the mirror and showed him the real me and in doing so got a little glimpse of just who he was. I didn't like what I saw, but I like the lesson that I learned. I'm not perfect, I never will be, and altering who I am to fit the mold of who someone else thinks I should be is crazy. Nobody's perfect, and sometimes the person you're trying so hard to be perfect for, is scarily imperfect. 

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