Our generation acts like we’ve got it all, And it has to be flaunted everywhere.
The reality of it all is,
We’ve all got skeletons in the closet and monsters under the bed.
And how hidden you keep them, that’s completely up to you,
Just make sure that you don’t let them haunt you.
Whatever it is, your breakup,
The way your stomach looks when you put on that bikini,
Or maybe the social isolation you feel every time you scroll a little further on Instagram.
The perfection.
We all want it, but no matter what we do, what we spend, we can never ever achieve it.
You see, perfection is like the end of a rainbow,
Easy to see, but the minute you think you’re getting there, it moves back.
And just like a rainbow, it’s all an illusion.
I myself have spent countless hours chasing it,
The grades, the perfect flat belly and washboard abs, the cute lunches every single damned day.
I made myself crazy over it, made myself emotionally and clinically ill over it.
And nobody stood back and said to me ‘you’re perfect’ ‘I wish I could be you’ or ‘you should be a blogger’.
No, I got ‘you need a bigger butt’ ‘you should go to more parties’ and ‘your feed is all over the place’.
Who were these people?
And what the hell gave them the right to tell me this?
Live for you, live your mistakes, live the good and the bad.
Listen to you.
Define you, and you alone.
