Imperfectionist - Aug 11 2025

 

Imperfectionist

Aug 11 2025

When I gave up trying to be perfect.

When the worst happened

and it wasn’t so bad.

When I looked in the mirror

and saw only glass.

When I forgot the bad parts.

But more often than not

they’re all I recall.

When I missed the final episode

and the mystery went unsolved,

the bad guy wasn’t caught,

they never tied the knot

   —  even though all along

we knew they would.

It used to bother me, not knowing how it ends.

But now, life goes on

and I can live with incompletion.

And really, aren’t we all mysteries;

everyone

essentially unknowable

even to ourselves?

Left wondering

am I the good guy

or just playing the part?

And would I

knowing I couldn’t get caught?

But it’s so hard

to see yourself as others do.

So easy

to be someone else

when no one’s even watching.

Just you

in your mirrored room

peering at the wall,

watching yourself

get smaller and smaller

until you’re too far gone.

Trying to get away from my more prosaic style and be more ambiguous, less linear. Which doesn’t come naturally to me, because at heart, I’m an essay writer: sentences and paragraphs that follow in an ordered, logical, and conclusive way.