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Perfect

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I’m perfect
Don’t you see? Can’t you see how perfect I am?
Can’t you see how perfect I make myself look? How perfect I make my hair? And how perfect I act?
Everything about me is perfect! I know you think it…
You stare at people like me at school while walking in the hall to get to class knowing how perfect I am.
You mumble the words: “god I hate her” because you wish you could be as perfect as me. With all the perfect friends, the perfect life, the perfect grades, the perfect everything, you wish you could be just like me!
I know I’m perfect. I’ve always know.
When I walk out of the door of my house, when I’m driving around in my car, when I greet all my friends with a hug, and every time I breathe; every time I know how f---ing perfect I am.
I’m so perfect I could scream! Just shout to the world how perfect I am. Not letting anything affect me or get to me, having absolutely no problems in life. Everything about me is just perfect.
No matter how bad things could get or how much pain I have to hide inside me, I really shouldn’t be feeling like this. That’s not at all how I should feel.
No! No, no, no.
Perfect is how I should feel. It is how I feel. Because I know I’m perfect!
And so I tell myself, dress myself, and make myself to be so perfect. Because I’m supposed to be f---ing perfect!
Because when I lay in my bed at night all curled up, just laughing and laughing at what’s on TV just to hold back the tears. Even when my face turns red because I’m holding it all back, I know I’m perfect. Because when you add the right details, when you fake the right things, and add just enough empty space, it makes you perfect.
All it takes is the right punctuation. All it takes is the right spaces and spelling. All it takes is the right capitalization and it’s perfect.
I’m perfect.
I’mperfect.
Imperfect.
…..Guess I lied.



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