I love Perfection, but I hate it too.

My personal view on perfection; it can hurt you or it can strengthen you.

For the last three months, I have been able to say, "Yes, I like myself." I have been able to feel happy. My "depression" does not haunt me; it creeps up on me minimally, occasionally, but it isn't anything I cannot destroy.

I have always wanted to be perfect. I have surrounded myself with friends that I see as perfect. They have made the perfect amount of mistakes in life; the mistakes were never too large. They have the best common knowlege and more. They are sweet and appreciative; they listen and care. My friends are easy to talk to and funny too. Some have had their fair share of romance; they know they are capable of being loved.

Although my friends are perfect, I would be lying if I said I never became jealous. I love them more than the entire universe, but I wish I could be as great as they are. I wish, I wish, I wish. I find myself saying these two words constantly; these are words of selfishness and a spoiled life-style. These are words I hate and yet, I find myself living with them. I allow them to suck on my self-esteem as if it was a leech consuming my blood.

If I was perfect, I would be happy all the time. If I was perfect, everything, every talent would come naturally. If I was perfect, I'd be able to help everyone.

However, I have been called perfect before; whether if it's a joke or a mere compliment to one quality, it has been said to me. The feeling I get when I receive those two words, "You're perfect," my life is truly wrapped and tied with a bow; I recognize it as a gift; it's something I love.

It's funny. The two words I love and the two words I hate are intertwined. You cannot have both.

I hate perfection. I constantly remind myself perfection is disgusting. If I was perfect, more people may dislike me. If I was perfect, I wouldn't experience many different emotions. If I was perfect, I would never have to work hard; there would not be a challenge. If I was actually perfect, would I really be able to help people? Would I really be able to relate to their emotions? I need to empathize. If I was perfect, life would be boring; life would be a torture, but maybe, just maybe, I would not notice it.

Perfection can cause people to hate themselves; it can cause people to hate their beauty. Yet, striving for perfection can improve your abilities. Striving for perfection can strengthen you. 

I can never decide whether or not I love perfection.

I want to strive to be myself. Purely myself. Unfortunately, I do not always know what that is, but for right now, I can accept that.

I always tell myself, "Just go with the flow."