Kick perfection in the face

Beautiful. Important. Not Perfect. Which is, of course perfect.

Disrupting Dinner Parties

I keep starting this and stopping three lines in.

Trying different titles, going down different paths.

Vulnerability, depression, strength, what it means to be human.

Every time I stop, because nothing feels right. Nothing feels good enough. Nothing feels perfect.

And that’s ironic, because really what I am trying to say is: Fuck perfect.

Perfect is a lie that we tell ourselves. Perfect is a mask that we hide behind. Perfect is a desperate attempt to find control within a vast and unpredictable universe.

But the truth is, you can be as perfect as you possibly can – you can get all A’s and get the perfect job and cook local organic vegetarian food and do yoga every single day and strive towards that unattainable cellulite-free ass – and the people you love will still get hurt. You will still get hurt.

We are human. We are boundless capacity for…

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