We soak in an addiction.
To know how to do things without ever being taught,
To know how to succeed without ever having failed,
To know where we are without ever being lost,
To know who we are without ever losing ourselves.
Our spirals grow bigger as our climb grows longer,
And we pressure ourselves to go farther with each step.
We step higher and higher
Unsure of where we are headed.
We push and we push and we push
And we consider stopping to catch our breath
We are immune to our own achievement,
And we no longer recognize great,
But we expect it.
We get caught up in a lifestyle that reads more like a factory.
With each day,
We’re scheduled to produce the bigger and the better.
We grow afraid to fail,
Afraid to be confused,
Afraid to ask for help,
Afraid to disagree.
We grow afraid of ourselves as we realize
We are not perfect.
We conform to the idea that our endeavors are worth nothing
If they won’t lead to success.
We’ve absorbed and adopted a false realization:
That we must not only be ashamed of our shortcomings,
But that we must justify them for others.
We realize everything but the truth:
Complete perfection is a figment of the imagination.
Perfect is just a word
And its definition is nothing but the opinion of another.
We are not perfect, we are flawed.
Stopping to catch your breath is not a weakness.
Confusion leads to a greater clarity.
Asking a question leads to a greater knowledge.
Failure leads to a greater success.
So while many of us may not find ourselves
To be our personal definition of perfect,
We can find shelter in knowing
that to some,
To be perfect is to be flawed.
Olivia Mohun ’19