Perfectly Imperfect

The goal is not to be perfect; the goal is to be accepted for the imperfections.

Surreality

[BIGGEST EVER $20 COUPON*!] SG 1 ROYAL JELLY♥ BOOST 3X RESULTS!♥ 35-DAYS UPSIZE♥ Made In Australia

LIST.QOO10.SG

There was at time when I walked through life in surreality. Everything seemed floating and unreal. I was convinced that if I were to close my eyes, everything will STOP and nothing mattered. It wasn’t about death, it was about the unconsciousness in reality.

Have you wondered? What happened when you slept? My world stopped moving (in a way) when I slept (but you should know that I dream every night, so there is hardly no evasion from consciousness, it just slips into the subconsciousness – akin of getting itself super drunk, and avoid accountability).

So, I wondered. What did it matter IF these won’t matter once I closed my eyes? Why then should I be bothered to wear makeup, conceal my dark eye circles, colour my genetic grey hair, and be extremely upset with my 500 grams weight gain?

I took a public bus, with no make up, with bad hair, poorly matched outfit (it’s always lousy, by the way) and went to shop for grocery. I was an attractive young female who received countless of compliments of my (perhaps made-up) appearances on a daily basis. That was the bravest thing I did. It was as good as parading naked in the street.

Every step into the crowded bus-interchange was heavy-weighted and fear-induced. I felt that my heart was going to give out at any minute.

It felt… surreal. Not many people looked. I was ordinary. I wasn’t even ugly enough to get attention. Pretty, ugly, fat. skinny, they were all in my head. No one really cared!

An alternative thought would be, perhaps, this life is all in my head – fine, I admit, I have watched way too many much sci-fi movie/tv – and perhaps what I had thought mattered never mattered, at least not to anyone I saw at the bus interchange. NO ONE, except I, cared about my stories. 

The difference was (still is), I cared (still do) about their stories. As I looked at them and they looked or didn’t looked back, I wondered, what were their stories. Did they arrive at the same page as I, at some point?

Suddenly, I realised! Perhaps, this life was never about me. I am just the journalist, documenting everyone’s story. Mine was just for my personal entertainment and enrichment.

My life, is nothing but a surreality.

 

Save more than 30% on Health, Beauty products

Have you say!

Top