flawless is not beautiful


1. flawless is not beautiful


‘i’m sorry.’ he said.

‘you want-no, need, someone who can be there for you, unchanging. but the thing is, that doesn’t exist.

everything changes, the weather, the tides, letters on a typewriter. the heartstrings bend but never break. we are constantly adapting, moving forward, evolution at it’s finest; thoughts fluttering in our hearts and souls.

when somebody doesn’t fit your perfect painted picture of how they should be, you burn the canvas, destroy them like they destroyed your image. but that isn’t how it should be, no one is perfect, and you’ll never find your perfect image. people are people, imperfect beings and destructive in their own ways.

your windows are cracked, painted over but you think you can see out; and this is real, when really, all you need to do is open the window to breathe the oxygen and aspire truth.

‘i’m sorry,’ he said.

because you want someone who will never leave, and be your world, your everything, make your meaningless existence worthwhile. but you’re in charge of your fate, your world is what you make it, you are the puppeteer; other people only add to it.

what makes me sad,’ he sighed. ‘is when people think they don’t belong alive, like the world would be better off without them in it.’

‘because you may not leave a mark on the world or you may leave many, like cigarette burns, but whether you do or not is by the by. this world is so large it is incomprehendable, and oh, it’s so beautiful.’

he smiled, ‘just take a look outside at night. look at how many stars there are and how they are so untouchable, so perfect. now they are unchanging. is that what you want? a star? because it is unattainable.’ he shook his head.

‘do you realise you could go outside, walk anywhere and just scream ‘til you think your lungs will burst and your tangled veins are screaming with you? it wouldn’t change anything, though. this world is so untouched by humans. you may get a few concerned looks by passers by but that’s the beauty of it. when you stop screaming; and you feel like the silence is swallowing you whole.

‘i’m sorry’ he said.

‘but you want something unchanging, something flawless but you can’t touch it, you can’t hold it. it just, exists. for your taking, when you require it. but people; they live. and that is the difference. humans are flawed and we make mistakes and fuck up but we’re all on the same road, there’s no how to guide to life. perfect isn’t real. it’s an image, like the painted over windows; masked. underneath the mask isn’t necessarily pretty but it’s real, it’s raw and isn’t that worth it? isn’t that better?’

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