soul's marrow.

perfection is dull and boring. knowingly or unknowingly, humans strive for perfection. but beauty, in its rawest form, always has been, and always will be, in the innate flaws that shape us into who we are. though i can't help but wonder if i believe this philosophy because i think of myself to be unlovable. because i can’t fathom someone loving me in my realest form. waking up with tangled bedhead, swollen eyes, cheeks puffed with sleep. skin marked with scars too stubborn to fade, a body wrapped in hair i never asked for. my smile curves unevenly on one side, crooked teeth peeking through. flesh settling in places i despise. i was never meant to be easy on the eyes. am i truly to believe that these define my beauty? do i resent perfection? or do i reject it? only because i know i may never reach it? maybe that makes me a hypocrite. or maybe just human. humans, so simple— we crave perfection, validation, and above all, love. oh, to be loved at your truest nature.