I am perfect. Or, at least you believe me to be. I cover up cracks in my exterior with fake smiles and cliché thoughts. I know you now believe me to be shallow, but isn’t that perfection? To the world I am nothing more than another person that will go to school, get a job, and have a family. I will be the archetypal citizen. I will not doing anything grand nor will I do anything unscrupulous, I will be simple. I will be perfect.


You tell me all your secrets, your desires, your hidden goals that you want out of life. It is a trade. You expect me to tell all my hidden thoughts and ideas. I will tell you what you want. I will tell you things I have not and will not tell others. But… will I tell you my darkest fears or greatest cravings? No. No, I will not. For then, I will not be perfect. You will begin to see my imperfections, my hidden brokenness. And I, I cannot have that. It is not that I don’t trust you. I do. It is that I do trust you; I do idolize you too much, so much, that I would not be able to bear it if you were to leave me. I will hide my flaws from you, hide my weaknesses, and you will be left with perfection. I will be perfect.


Every so often, on a rare occasion, you will glimpse in the darkness of my soul. I will show you my false perfections for a mere moment. And, you will, unknowingly make a comment that will change me. Change me for the better. And change me for the worst. Your trusting remarks make me want to tell you more, show more lies that are buried inside me. But I resist. For, if I ever were to do that you would see. See how I am not all that you want me to be. You would leave me shattered with all my imperfections broken around me. I know what you’re thinking. You question how I can think such things about you. I question myself as well. And I am sorry, but I don’t have another choice. I will be perfect.


My walls of perfection are starting to crumble in. Your understanding and commitment stab at the walls of my fake smiles with stunning accuracy. Soon I will be left exposed. That cannot happen. What will you think of me? What will you say? I am not left with a choice. My fake smiles cannot hold out any longer. I am left in front of you with all my pain, worries, goals, and dreams. I am left with nothing. I am…

Imperfect…