I want to be perfect. My quest in being a good human never stops. And, this awareness proves everyday that I can’t be the person I dream to see in others. This seems fictitious to the perfect men and women. You are what I want to be. It is like wanting to have a moon in your backyard. Looks beautiful with it’s own bright, and even possible if you consider just anything that shines as your moon.
We all know that this moon is not real. It’s the one at the backyard.
If there is any perfect human on this planet, I am sure this person gave up on being physical. The quest, I see, changes the faces for me and also the questions it is asking. Maybe one day I’ll stop dreaming, and that’ll be my death.
I don’t want to be perfect. The choice to be an imperfect kid always, wondering what it means to be a good human, will keep me going.