Perfect smile.
Perfect score.
Perfect friends.
Perfect life.
Same old copy-and-pasted person
that doesn’t actually exist.
Because your “perfect”
doesn’t actually exist.
Perfect isn’t real,
it’s rehearsed.
It’s practiced pain
smothered in layers of polish.
The shiny, bright kind—
accompanied with a shiny, bright smile
that never quite reaches the eyes.
Because “perfect” isn’t perfect—
It’s pretending.
