I have often found myself grappling with the limits of what is tangible.
My to-do list demonstrates such inordinately excessive ambition; a week ago, I was supposed to have learned how to do a French braid. A month ago, my room should have been fully redecorated. A year ago, I should have gotten my braces off.
My horizons shift with no rhythm. Every plan remains unfinished, every box remains unchecked, and everything I should be I remain far from. This is not due to a lack of planning; my failure is perhaps more ingrained. The tools in front of me feel unnatural in my hands, like a moment of desperation to ram a star-shaped peg into a square-shaped hole.
It will never work.
I walk this hollow pursuit in a never-ending circle; I am cautious not to stray to the periphery of the trail as it is easier there to fall off the deep end. My finger refuses to dip into such waters, an effort to avoid the undertow that would suck me and my futility under the surface and to a place ending with an unknown destination.
I promise myself I will jump when the finish line becomes verbatim, a time I have waited for with open arms since I decided that I needed to be more than just enough. For years, I have walked this tightrope of doubt: do they like me? Am I fun to be around? If I release myself from the vision I imagine will be perceived more emphatically, will I receive myself more emphatically?
In fleeting moments, I remember something my father has been telling me for quite some time: If in five years you won’t remember it, don’t spend more than five minutes dwindling in its unforgiving presence. The idea of perfection in itself is a fallacy meant to rot away one’s life with stress.
Will letting go of the unquenchable need to be seen as desirable, to be seen as worthy of praise, lead to freedom?
As much as I attempt to deny the verity of such truth, I have since realized that life moves on regardless of the motion in which it moves. Every failed math quiz will become a fruitless insignificance, every bad hair day will be forgotten, and every moment of my life spent surrendering joy to fleeting perfection will be moments wasted.
It is okay to never look quite as dewy or clean as the girls on your social media.
It is okay not to get the grade or percentage you desire.
It is okay to fail.
Every day does not need to be a chance to prove oneself, for life will pass everyone by regardless of how many A’s they received in Algebra 2 or how photogenic they look online.
Do not let the days fly by with the fated acceleration of worry.
After all, it only takes five minutes to avoid a life half-lived.
