I am Flawed.
I realize it every time I stare at myself in the mirror each morning. Every time I create something new. Every time I work on a marketing pitch, or write a song lyric, or record a verse of something, or belt out a song.
And every time I write.
I realize that I am no more than a series of flaws and imperfections, covered by several other layers of mistakes and shortcomings, wrapped in a cocoon of flesh and bones that is just holding it all together.
While writing might seem like I am baring my soul to the universe, for the most part I am simply trying to conceal the ugliness that has suddenly been torn open like an unhealed wound. Writing is much like posing in the nude - you're baring the most personal part of yourself to the world - your soul, your spirit, your mind and your being, while still trying to come away looking good. You're putting yourself out there, hoping that somebody will maybe find some tiny part of something that strikes their fancy, amidst the terrible, torrid storms of your heart.
And so, every time I write, I go back and read. I judge myself intensely. I go back and try and correct and edit every last grimy detail as much as I can. I go through days, weeks...sometimes even months of questioning, smoothening, reinventing every little nuance, every small idea that eventually turns into a story. I seek validation and approval - for someone who has seen the ugly, flawed, filthy mess that I am to tell me that they love me for every scar across my heart, for every gash across my countenance, for every dropped comma and forgotten apostrophe, for every figment of the imagination that did not stretch far enough.
I am as flawed and as human as they come. And in those flaws, lies my beauty and my individuality. That is the supreme irony of this existence. Because no other person is as flawed as me, or is flawed in the way that I am. I am beautiful in my ugliness, whole because of the little pieces of my brittle soul, and perfect in every blemish that discolors my path.
I am Flawed.
But in my flaws, I am being made Perfect!
I realize it every time I stare at myself in the mirror each morning. Every time I create something new. Every time I work on a marketing pitch, or write a song lyric, or record a verse of something, or belt out a song.
And every time I write.
I realize that I am no more than a series of flaws and imperfections, covered by several other layers of mistakes and shortcomings, wrapped in a cocoon of flesh and bones that is just holding it all together.
While writing might seem like I am baring my soul to the universe, for the most part I am simply trying to conceal the ugliness that has suddenly been torn open like an unhealed wound. Writing is much like posing in the nude - you're baring the most personal part of yourself to the world - your soul, your spirit, your mind and your being, while still trying to come away looking good. You're putting yourself out there, hoping that somebody will maybe find some tiny part of something that strikes their fancy, amidst the terrible, torrid storms of your heart.
And so, every time I write, I go back and read. I judge myself intensely. I go back and try and correct and edit every last grimy detail as much as I can. I go through days, weeks...sometimes even months of questioning, smoothening, reinventing every little nuance, every small idea that eventually turns into a story. I seek validation and approval - for someone who has seen the ugly, flawed, filthy mess that I am to tell me that they love me for every scar across my heart, for every gash across my countenance, for every dropped comma and forgotten apostrophe, for every figment of the imagination that did not stretch far enough.
I am as flawed and as human as they come. And in those flaws, lies my beauty and my individuality. That is the supreme irony of this existence. Because no other person is as flawed as me, or is flawed in the way that I am. I am beautiful in my ugliness, whole because of the little pieces of my brittle soul, and perfect in every blemish that discolors my path.
I am Flawed.
But in my flaws, I am being made Perfect!
