Trying to be perfect was a goal I had. It dragged me down to depth of despair and self loath. I didn't like who I was. I didn't like my imperfections. But I realized that the thought of being perfect stopped from living. It trapped me in that moment not moving forward but replaying the past over and over like a broken record. I'm learning to love me. As imperfect as I am I'm a masterpiece that I should celebrate. Being imperfect is the best form of perfection. Unique and one of a kind.
4 July 14, 2023, 05:58 0Shouts echo throughout the halls Glass, splintered and wedged in walls How many times do they cry for you? How many times have their shrinking souls Flown from the room? Forget. A relationship failed, mirrors their own How many times he was there, But you were alone? How many times did he remind you Of… Forget Third time’s the charm, here’s to loving The touches, the whispers, Their gentle tone’s so unsettling Why do you feel suffocated, in a room so pure? How does one truly heal? Remember
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