I’m in the process of learning that I don’t have to be perfect. I still stress over every grade lower than an A, over every blemish on my skin, over every word I say that could have been misinterpreted. I have to tell myself after the fact to breathe deeply and remember the big picture. Perfection isn’t necessary, nor is it possible. To love one’s faults is to find peace.
After all, if everyone were perfect, life would be stunningly boring. We’d be like gears in a clock—working correctly, sure, but mechanical and stuck in an endless cycle. The world may seem like a clock, of which you appear to be the only broken cog. The world, however, is not a clock, and to be broken is to be human. “To err is human,” to draw from a different quote.
Ring the bells that can still ring. Do what you can, not what you should. Do what is possible. Not to say you should stop trying to be better—you can certainly work to improve your weaknesses, but don’t aim for perfection, just betterment. Enjoy your cracks, especially the ones you cannot or prefer not to fix. They’re beauty marks. They’re how people recognize you. If I put on cover up to hide my freckles and wrinkles, I look plastic. More perfect, sure, but not like myself at all.
If you’re like me and have trouble forgetting perfection and appreciating your cracks, that’s okay too. Love that about yourself! Start by loving that crack, and go from there. Being imperfect doesn’t mean you’re a failure, it means you’re alive.