Oh, friend! I am so incredibly far from perfect. I haven’t done a perfect thing in years.
Today I wore a skirt to work that’s a size (or two) too small, and twisted around all day because of the poor fit.
Today I sent angry text messages to my father and then snapped at my coworker and said “Jesus Christ!” and blinked back tears.
Today I realized that I don’t really have enough friends to invite to a birthday party or a birthday anything.
Today I bought food from a food truck for lunch and then also ate what was in the cafeteria and I had the feeling that everyone was staring while they nibbled their salads.
Today I didn’t clean up anything and I let my drink make condensation rings on my wooden nightstand.
Today I tried to wear eyeliner and fucked it all up.
Today I pouted and felt sorry for myself and whined.
Today I sent more than one terse email.
Today I was bored and boring and not funny the entire day.
Believe me when I tell you that I want so much for your idea of me to be true. I want it to be true for you, who believes it, but more for me because I am selfish and vain and like to imagine myself as some storybook heroine. The blog perpetuates my vanity, I think, and that’s why I like it. But I also strive to be honest here, sometimes brutally, for my own good. I think being honest is better than being perfect. Honesty is what I aspire to.