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Grey 4d
I try
So hard
To be perfect.

And yet
I fail
Every time.
Yours is the art of the broken.
Always patching. Always aware
that nothing and no one is perfect,
least of all you, that all things
are in a state of constant repair
and readjustment, never quite
and likely to never be quite, and so
you paint, you write, you stumble
in public, one of the broken masses
only louder than most,
less willing to hide the cracks,
or perhaps only, less able.

You have no plan.
An age of plans have blown up in your face
time and time again, mocking
your presumption, finally able
to simply be, simply do,
less a creature of inspiration
than a plugger, stuck with
your inability to surrender,
a construction worker building happiness
one mess at a time.
I have been in my art studio for just at a year now. The picture shows what I started with. It’s actually my favorite picture of the studio, mess and all, complete with the presumption, in the form of the sign on the table, that it would become more.

Now it is a working place, with tables and easels and a whole slew of half-finished work and paintings on the wall, always in a state of flux as my thoughts and work changes and grows, as I get things right and get things wrong.

It’s not a perfect studio. Not particularly photogenic. You’ll probably never see it in an issue of better homes and studios. But it’s mine. It’s me. Gloriously, loudly, imperfect.

This morning, I read an article about how the search for perfection kills the good. I’ve lived that one. Never again. Now, it’s just about progress. Growth. One step at a time. One day at a time. How did I grow today? What did I try? What did I risk? What can I learn from it all?

It’s a different life. At times harder and at times easier. But I am so much happier with it. At 64, I cannot recall being this close to happiness. And for a depressed guy, that’s a big statement.

A lot of that has to do with the woman I love. She is so honest, so real, so loving. Able to let me struggle and she shares her own, leaving me with no doubt, none at all, of the depth of her love.

And if we are mostly adult children (And I believe we are), that kind of total love is life-saving. Stumbling is never fatal. Grace lives.

Be well. Travel wisely,

You do not strive for greatness
You strive for perfection

But perfect
Isn’t perfect enough

You don’t need a break and are not allowed mistakes
For you are strong enough

Say goodmorning
No matter the lie

Don’t cry
Sit straight
Don’t yell
No rough music
Be a good girl

For we only want the best for you


I mustn’t settle for greatness
I must strive for perfection

But don’t stop there
No matter how delusional it sounds

Breaks and mistakes are not tolerated
They think I’m strong enough

Say goodmorning
No matter the lie

Don’t cry
Sit straight
Don’t yell
No rough music
Be a good girl

Put yourself in the mold your parents made for you
Isabel Aghahowa Dec 2018
how am i to breathe?
without knowing every breath
and every second that comes with
the one after the next
for the absence of expectation
is nothing but fear
when every moment could be sacred
and could be known to the millisecond

i am precious with your time
i count the steps you take and the ones that will come with it
for i don't know when you will next step
with me there to count
and for me there to think about your every precious inhale
and exhale
Inspired by T.S Elliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"
Kapi Laur Sep 2018
either i be perfect
or i be poison
the eyes of an extremist
are always more fun
julianna Aug 2018
I’m not an angry person,
I’m just an irritable perfectionist.
Haha. I’ve told myself this lie for so long, but I’ve now come to realize that it’s the same thing.
julianna Jun 2018
I have a parasite.
It's called perfectionism
It causes me to have overwhelming brain spasms
When you ask me to do something out of my
"comfort zone"
If I try to do it, I have to battle against the parasite.
It says things like:
"This is too hard."
"Give up, it's easier."
"You don't care about this!"
I'm practicing self-soothing methods,
Ways to drown out the little parasite's
Nagging voice.
It is difficult.
It is hard.
But I am stronger, I am the host.
unmartyred Apr 2018
But do not think thy world is equally
Despite how thou work things out

You are no some superhero to change     New     York      City

But you are some ice cream on a rough day to shout about.
julianna Apr 2018
I hate making mistakes
In this life, you never win
I'm tired of getting close,
Close to a perfect that doesn't exist
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