Perfection

The problem with being a [self proclaimed] perfectionist is that it is very hard to find like minded organisms. Even as I’m writing this it is hard to find what the perfect next word is. And then once you find perfection, how do you even realize that it is perfect?

Admitting something is perfect actually violates the definition of perfection. Perfect is something that is better than anything. So by claiming something is perfect aren’t we closing shut the path to refinement? How can anything be perfected when there is no evolution? You see, it’s a paradox. What we really mean when we say something is perfect is that it’s on its path to perfection, the destination of which it will never reach for reaching it would mean it’s no longer perfect.

I think I’ve found this perpetually evolving perfection. Perfect is the way in which it admits defeat. Perfect is the way in which it owns up to its mistakes. Perfect is its vulnerability to be taken over by change. Perfect is its willingness to be annihilated and born anew. Perfect is in its clairvoyance of unfounded developments. Perfect is its absence of hope. Perfect is its certainty of amelioration. Well, its only certainty is uncertainty.

Such perfection only deserves the best but what if that gives it the notion that it has already reached the destination? What if, then, it feels underappreciated and gets derailed? I must find that graceful equilibrium that lets perfection go through the arduous toils of chaos! For in that turbulence, in the eye of the storm, lies my perfection!