Perfection

The fork glints in the light as the girl twists it around and around as her mother yells at her across the table. She pays no attention to the fork though but instead to the words that were being thrusted at her, the ones that were being shoved down her throat. Lazy, ugly, insubordinate. Each one taking a stab at her. 

Doesn't her mother know that she already has these words running around her head. Doesn't her mother know that her need for perfection in her life is because of these words. Doesn't her mother know that she tries not to be a failure every god damn day. 

But no one knows that the girl needs perfection. No one gets that is why she picks away her dead ends or can never finish writing a book. No one asks why she cannot finish a single work of art as she instead leaves them unfinished in order to not deal with the pain of all the imperfections. Nobody knows and thats how she want to leave it.

She doesn't want them to know that in her room all by herself she is dying for a way to get out of her mind. She doesn't want them to know that the words lazy, ugly and imperfect run around her mind as if they are on a never ending loop. She doesn't want them to know that she keeps her head in the clouds because when she touches Earth she feels as if she is choking. 

The girl never wants to be seen as the girl who gets panic attacks from stress in the back of a class room, or freaks out about a small imperfection. She wants to be known as the girl who's it together, who has a smile on her face and can make people laugh. And in order to do this she wears a mask that will never come off, one that no can see the face under. Because like evey thing else in the girls life it is ugly. 

So as the fork glints in the light the girl blocks out the words and the world as she tries to find perfection in the clouds.