PURSUIT OF PERFECTION.

"A beautiful thing is never perfect, for it is its imperfection which renders it its beauty."

There are countless wonts human beings establish in the course of their life, whether this be subconsciously or knowingly. As inevitable as some are, these characterize us, forming unerasable lines which distinguish our individual self from others... And that is what the pursuit of perfection is all about: the individuality that lies in striving for our own personal improvement. Some, however, unfortunately exert effort in vain, for it is not their own selves they should be working hard on, but rather, their own broken surroundings.

Everything started as I stayed in bed the whole day today, earning another absence in school. There really wasn't much to do; I mean when you throw up everything that should be passing through your digestive system every few minutes, you don't exactly have much of a choice but to just lie down (and rot), waiting for that bitter feeling of puke to disappear, right? Besides, I wouldn't want to stain the tiles of my school corridor even more, would I (actually, I'd love to... but then again, it's dirty enough as it is.)?

So anyway, I lay there, the four walls enclosing me (for HOURS) in a cage-like room, a sensation of claustrophobia slowly creeping down on me(it made me feel even more nauseous, and it was also kind of peculiar, especially after seeing a black spider crawling right next to my hand, me shrieking inly while being too listless to sweep it away. Talk about laziness in a life-death situation).

Eventually, my gaze landed on a box right under my study table, where I had always kept letters and pictures my friends had given me in the past years. I then took, opened and studied its content meticulously, dredging up indelible memories from my pre-teen years, my heart swelling with overwhelming glee (ok, so let's not get too emotional here. let's fast-forward!)..., when suddenly, I came across a postcard from a very close friend of mine, who I had always secretly admired(no, not in a freaky stalker kind of way, but just pure reverent admiration), and who I always had deemed to be perfect: immaculate looks, a sexy body, sharp as a knife and as smart as Einstein: pretty dream-like, right?

I wouldn't say I was envious of her, because I've mostly always been satisfied with myself, but whenever I encountered a (stupidly enough) self-caused problem, I usually compared myself to her. I guess that's just human nature (I even know that it is), yet at times, this odd feeling of wanting to be something else still arose. Ok, so maybe invidia DID fill my heart occasionally whenever I thought of her abundant success (seemingly unsurmountable for me!), but in the end, that begrudging feeling of envy was rather turned into a kind of fueling motivation which still evokes my zeal in certain situations these days.

As I scrutinized her postcard, our very first heart-to-heart conversation (which was held in the bathroom, btw!),suddenly came to mind, the first time I learned more about what truly lay beneath that unblemished mask. Apparently, even Porcelain dolls have invisible cracks.

Renee: "...But it's absolutely amazing!" (I was amazed by the oil painting she had made).
X: "Learned that technique from my father."
Renee: *silently brushing her teeth* (I didn't know what to say then, for I seldom saw her dad. Her mentioning him was a shocking suprise in itself).
X: "You know, I'm sorry. (The atmosphere became so tense that I pretended to still brush my teeth). I think it's kind of unfair how you know so little about me, although you are one of my closest friends..."
Renee: *this time washing her face*
X: "I've never really wanted anyone to know, but now I changed my mind. *X smiled, her spotless white teeth showing.* If ever you write a
book someday, I hope you won't forget my story."
Renee: "I promise, I won't."

And, ironically enough, I did (for a few years)...and now, that promise has come back to haunt me again.



P.S: I know, it's not yet done.