There’s nothing wrong with trying to be little Miss Perfect. Besides the fact that it’s pissing everyone off.
I used to try to be little Miss Perfect all the time and I realized that it was setting me apart from the rest of the world. It kept me at a level of distance from my friends, it kept me dishonest with my family, and it kept me from confronting myself.
Michelle and I went to dinner tonight and I realized the reason she was my best friend: I didn’t need to be little Miss Perfect with her because she saw right through it! And my imperfections didn’t seem so bad after all.
Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius,
& it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.
My imperfections are what make me, well, me. I’m neurotic and painfully self-conscious. I am hopelessly romantic and disappointed when life doesn’t add up. And the reason I’m telling you this is because I think this will be a much more interesting blog if I am honest with myself, and with you.
The best writing is found in conflict. The best stories to read are a journey – and I hope that you enjoy mine.