I got a new tattoo. I did. Sometimes I just go from day to day wondering why mediocrity is so prominent in my life; why I haven't ever just perfected something. I've slid by being really good at being bad at things. Relationships, careers, education and cleaning my room have all fell by the wayside to my daydreams, my wonderment of what my life is supposed to be like (as opposed to the creation of said life). That's when it hit me. I am good at something (remember?): Being good at being bad at things. I've embraced it, marked myself with pride that it's totally okay to be me.
And that's why it doesn't bother me when people question the quality of my piece by asking if I tattooed it on myself, or got it in prison; I laugh. Fuck, I did it again. Imperfection perfected. It's perfect.
No comments:
Post a Comment