I’ve often pondered the concepts of perfection and imperfection. Are these real measures, or just arbitrary words that we’ve given undue weight to?
The more I thought about it, the more I began to question whether these terms had any genuine substance or if they were simply ideas constructed by society—yet another way for us to measure and compare ourselves against others.
As my life meandered along its unpredictable path, I began to realize that there wasn’t truly anything or anyone entirely perfect or imperfect. These concepts seemed more like illusions, figments shaped by the perceptions of those around us. They are as fluid as the opinions that form them, existing only in the eyes of the beholder.
If perfection is determined by how closely I align with someone’s idealized version of me, and imperfection by how far I stray from that image, then aren’t these terms nothing more than reflections of someone else’s expectations? I could chase these moving targets endlessly, trying to mold myself into something that aligns with another’s vision, but to what end?
The more I contemplate it, the clearer it becomes: perfection and imperfection are not destinations. They are not benchmarks to strive toward or to fear falling short of.
For me, these labels never really mattered. I carry both on my shoulders, not as burdens, but proudly as badges of honour. They are part of who I am—authentic, raw, and unapologetically truthful.
I am not confined by someone else’s idea of what I should be. My worth is not defined by how perfect or imperfect I appear to anyone else. I am defined by my own sense of self, my integrity, and my commitment to living truthfully.
Loving me or hating me, seeing me as perfect or imperfect—these are not my concerns. They are the concerns of those who choose to perceive me that way. It’s their journey, not mine. My journey is one of authenticity, of staying true to who I am regardless of how others choose to label me.
Over the years I have learnt to walk my path with my head held high, embracing both my perceived perfections and imperfections. I know that I am neither, yet I am both, and that is exactly where I find my strength. The world will always have its opinions, but the only opinion that truly matters is my own.
And in my eyes, I am enough, just as I am.
