do you ever ask yourself if something is too perfect? like when the sun filters through the leaves of a maple tree just right, and you can see flecks of shadow spilling onto yourself?
or when you see a certain flower for the first time, and somehow note to yourself that the petals make such flawless circles you wish you could take a mental picture of them to keep in your pocket to remind you to smile?
or when you're sitting next to me, and remember that we don't fight, or argue, or insult, or disagree, or disrespect - don't have to fix how we react to each other, because how we see one another isn't broken.
or are those perfect things empty, boring, lacking - simply uninteresting to you? because in those perfect things, there is nothing to improve.
the point is to exist, and enjoy existing. so just... be.