perfection

Perfection wears a long, white, flowing gown. When she walks, she practically floats. She holds herself with such poise that she leaves all of her passersby in awe. Her skin is porcelain, her hair gold. She is blind, as she does not want to see imperfection. She hasn’t always been like this. She used to wallow in self-doubt and spend hours in the mirror wishing she was prettier. She was sad and dull, an average-looking girl. She taught herself to show herself how she ought to be. Overtime, she perfected it, embodying her goal. Everyone said she was perfect and beautiful, so much so that she eventually thought she was, believing everyone else was flawed. Perfection would never tell anyone this, but being flawless is taking its toll. Her porcelain skin is ever-so-slightly beginning to show wrinkles of worry and nerves. Her golden hair is losing its luster and her gown is tattering at the base. She’s held so many secrets in, so many things she’s longed to say. She feels worthless, lame, tired, sad, and dull. She wishes she was whole again, longing to be flawed.

Artwork: "Alchemize" by Inés Zamora