For whatever reason last night, before I went to bed, I started thinking about the concept of perfection. And I was reminded of an argument that Alex and I had a few months ago. I don’t remember what exactly caused the argument, but it was one of our most productive ones to date if you ask me. And I remember Alex saying that he felt as though he couldn’t live up to the expectation he thought I had of him to be “perfect.”
And for once, I responded with the exact thing that came to mind first. “The day you become perfect, I will instantly become not good enough for you.” I will never, ever be perfect. I have accepted and embraced that for a few years now, and because of that, I will never, ever expect anyone or anything to be perfect either.
Last night my thoughts focused more on the question: “What is perfect?” And I knew that if I didn’t write something down, 1) I would never get to sleep and 2) This would never get written (for better or worse). The answer that I wrote down before dozing off last night is this: Perfection is subjective. It’s merely a concept that can never have one true definition. Why then do so many people strive for it?
Perfection for me is imperfection. Perfection is arguments that happen at the worst times that end up being productive and healing. Perfection is saying something in a way that you didn’t mean and having to take it back and rethink it and rephrase it so that you can try to get your point across in a better way. Perfection is waking up to an unwanted message from a past lover and then looking over at your current, sleeping lover and thinking about how wonderful your life has become. Perfection is seeing a baby attempt their first steps, falling down over and over again, but eventually still learning how to walk.
As I write this, I keep wondering what my overall point is? That we shouldn’t strive to be perfect? That perfect is unattainable? Or maybe, it’s that “perfect” is attainable, it’s just how you perceive it.
Thanks for reading, I know that this post was far from perfect!