I am following in Dawn D‘s footsteps and being inspired by OctPoWriMo, and today’s word was, PERFECT. These are the thoughts that were triggered for me.
I have met women, girls and cats, that I thought were close, to perfect.
My mother always said to me, that nobody is perfect, and the definition of perfect changes quickly, as quickly as a decade, sometimes only a year.
Therefore when I met the women, girls and cats, that I thought were close, to perfect,
I knew they really weren’t and somehow that made me smile.
When I was little, there was a girl in my class. All the boys saw her and all the girls loved her, and she was so pretty, sporty and smart, she always finished her math tasks first, and had lots of friends. I thought she must be perfect, since everybody wants to copy her, but I am not like her, not one little bit, then what am I, if that is perfection?
When I became a young woman, I came to know a young woman, she was a year under me in school, and she was so perfect. Her short platinum blonde hair, perfect on her perfect head. Her stunning face, with light makeup, collar bones, glowing skin, womanly beautiful body. She was funny, talented and had a unique style, I was blown away, to the point of obsession, a girl crush, the wonder, how did she do it? Why was she this flawless? Everyday?
And what was I? Next to her?
Cats are so perfect, their bodies so strong, sleek and flexible, their faces are stunning and so god damned cute. They jump and stretch and purr when they’re happy and lay in the sun with a grin on their face.
I wish I was a cat.
But I knew all along, and I still know it true.
The little girl I once knew, She wasn’t perfect, she was spoiled, she manipulated, took advantage of her assets and hurt people’s feelings. It made her imperfect, it made her foul. And now she is plane, boring and uninteresting. Maybe she’ll learn, like I did.
The young woman I still know, she had her teeth done, the two corner teeth in her pearly white smile, were crooked and made her the most unique face ever. Now her teeth are straight, and her face slightly less interesting, I loved that “imperfection” but vanity got her. I know she’s not perfect, but she is a good person. The pressure of looking like this and that, it affects her, as much as it does me.
The cat, it is dead. It used it’s nine lives. It purred, jumped, screeched, scratched, played and made my life so good. But it’s gone now, his kidney failed him, and he had to go to sleep. But he reminds me of how someone, and something can be perfect to me, to you and to all.
Perfect is a vague word, it’s flawed and ever-changing. But it’s handy for a situation, a moment, a second,
when you’re truly happy, and all worries are gone, when someone looks indescribable, or it lands, hand in glove. Perfection, I’ve felt it, I’ve seen it, I’ve stroked it. But it never stays the same.