perfect imperfection...
i wonder if i'm making the mistake of searching for perfection, i don't think so but it is time to consider this paradox...
If i can learn to love imperfection, without accepting that it can't be improved, maybe i can be a step closer to happiness. Because ignorance is bliss, and knowledge is just a big headache...
But seriously why can't i or most people accept the little imperfections of life that make everything beautiful. What would a scarr look good if it wasn't for it's story...
i am imperfect, a lot, but i have to choose which traits of myself i'll consider something to be worked on, and which ones make me me...
If i can enjoy a perfect moment why can't enjoy an imperfect one? see this is an infinite loop, ' if i could like imperfect moments as much as i do perfect ones it would be perfect'. So assuming that we all search for some kind of perfection, why not settle and accept that something are perfect in its imperfection...
imperfection perfection...
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