I tried so hard to be prefect. I thought I need to shine all the time, that a flaw was a death sentence. But with time cover up starts to fade. My flaws showed, the parts of me that should be hidden at all costs were shown for you to pick at. For every person, friend or fo, to point out shove it down my throat. SO by the end of the day, all I saw was imperfection. My skin wasn't tan, yet wasn’t pale enough to be cool. my hair wasn't orange or red but a dirty in-between. my eyes shown the oddest green. I realist I was never to be prefect, I decide to be happy instead. To be free, to smile, to show the beauty in my flaws. So when people tell me I’m not prefect. I laugh, I was never trying to be.