Perfection is what every child is demanded to create: it has the ability to lure the innocent. Ever since I was a child, books and movies told me that love and money was all I ever needed. I was forced into activities that removed my imagination, filling me with rocks: inviting hysteria into my life. Rocks that would drag me down when I realized perfection would not bless me.
I was tired. Tired of talking about big apartments and tired of wanting a perfect life. Perfection was being “found” by him. He could create my life for me. Being a couple. Talking. Hugging. Love.
Children. Aging. The true “delight” of life? But the allure did not hold up to my demands. Demands life made me create. I wanted to remove the hysteria created by years of no sleep.
Their version of life was not mine. And I was through with perfection’s demands. I finally had a chance to change. I poured every rock, every thought of perfection into a box, but I did not know what to do next. This box held years of dreams. But I was not an innocent child anymore: their creation of a perfect life made me a monster. I let go of the box, and felt the weight of stress escaping me.
I had hope. I intended to hold onto myself in every activity I participated in. I wanted to love life, not create hysteria through perfection. Life was special when I became my creation.
Anita Inagandla is currently a junior at San Jose State University majoring in Business Administration with a concentration in MIS. In her spare time, she enjoys reading novels and studying the writings of philosophers. She also enjoys spending hours watching shows on Netflix instead of getting work done.
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