Revolving Door Tribulations
The day I found out perfection couldn’t be achieved, I knew I had one thing and one thing only left to be: unapologetically human. Flawed to the core. Shamelessly vulnerable. Breakable.
Of all this, I find the latter is the hardest thing to be. You’re breakable from the moment you’re conceived; accepting such fragility is what makes it tough. Because who wants to let a life go to waste just like that? Who wants to seem weak? We’re obsessed with being strong in the face of adversity.
You’re always trying to dodge the bullet, but life is a revolving door and it will bounce back. It will hit you right in the face when you least expect it, repeatedly, whether you move fast or slow. And, even when the walls you once built are tall enough, they won’t shield you from the inevitable tribulations. The hurt will crawl in through the cracks and paint the whole town blue. And suddenly, every uplifting attempt falls short when the lows hit the earth’s crust.
I’ve followed directions in search of healing. I’ve shaken it. I’ve reflected it. I’ve written it. I’ve partied it. I’ve cried it. I’ve painted it. I’ve talked it. I’ve walked it. I’ve drunk it. I’ve slept it. Did I say I’ve cried it? I’ve even prayed it.
Understanding your place on this planet, though; the miniscule particle that you are, is sometimes the only thing that can remove some of the pressure you feel in society. Accepting — with grace and humility — that perfection cannot be achieved is perhaps the key to being content, or just okay, with existing in the universe.
The day I found out there’s no such thing as perfection, was the day I began to reject all invitations that wanted me to morph into something that I’m not and can never be. So I remain flawed for the sake of me.
