Perfection is not of this world
When I was 17 years old, I discovered the wonderful world of online role-games (no, not the videogames, and not even the ones in which you collect points like with dices, I mean textual role-games, those in which you write a story along with strangers) and in that context, I tried for a long time to write a character perfect under almost every aspect.
In textual role-games there were unwritten rules, one of which assumed that it wasn’t enough saying “my character is perfect” to have a perfect one: you had to write and interpreting him/her so as that everybody else would perceive it as perfect — something that quite resembles to the idea of “show don’t tell” which stands at the basis of creative writing.
How do you create a perfect character?
As I was a teenager imperfect under every aspect, I had no idea. I only knew that I envied people who were, to my eyes, so perfect, those ones with clear ideas about their future, a satisfied social life and, above all, always perfect hair. I don’t know why I was so obsessed with perfect hair, maybe because mine was so huge and wavy and the only person who could tame them was the hairdresser. However, the first thing that I chose for my perfect character was long straight hair, as straight as spaghetti. Not even the worst chants-duels would have been able to mess Charlotte’s hair — that was the name for the girl I had in mind.
Then, I started to look around. When I was 17, I still was trying to understand who I was and what I liked: as I did not have any great idea, I had decided to lean on my classmates’ tastes, those ones who seemed to me more satisfied with their existence.
From time to time, my friends were making fun of my being passionate about pink and glitter, so I had started taking mental notes on what could have substituted striped socks, embellished leg warmers and Converse with butterflies. I remember with half a smile the day in which, in the changing room during gym time, I found myself rummaging in other girls’ things, trying to get which brand was the one of those so nice shoes, or where I could have found those jeans that seemed to fit every girl so well.
I started to do something similar for building Charlotte, my perfect character. I started to observe carefully all those girls, trying to listen more and talk less. Each one of them had, obviously, her own way to act: one was more lively, the other one a little shyer, but in about two weeks I came to the conclusion that perfection has nothing to do with being appropriate, with “the right measure”. It has nothing to do with saying and doing nothing inappropriate, with not being over-the-top. So, as I was totally over-the-top in whichever thing I was doing, despite I was trying hard not to, I found myself to write down about that girl so different form myself.
I was not easy. Characters’ action had to be written in few minutes, and, especially at the beginning, I found myself writing about someone who was more of a neurotic than perfect, because she was always ending up with answering or reacting as I would have answered or answered. This was totally clashing with the premises. People were complimenting themselves with me because my character was fun (to read), but that was not exactly what I had in mind. At least in a fantasy world, I repeated myself, I wanted to find out what it was like being appropriate, so I kept on insisting. Even in real life — as myself — I was trying to do something similar, but it was even more difficult, as I did not even have those three minutes to reflect upon my behaviour.
Life runs fast, it doesn’t wait for you.
Slowly, this research about perfection became a part of me. I left Charlotte behind, my character who wanted to be practically perfect, but I kept on trying to get inspiration from people I had around, and trying to reach this sake perfection.
I had a mental list of the things that other people did not like of me, and day after day I tried to work on some of them. For example, I was saying to myself: “you are not pragmatic”, so I was given up on the faculty had really wanted to enrol in another, more scientific, more pragmatic.
“You are childish”, people were saying to me. So, at least in public I banished any comment about pop culture and comics that I really liked. I tried to talk less, to make an impression.
“You listen to bad music, you read stupid books, you read too much, you read too less, you look like a teenager, you look like an adult, you are letting yourself go, don’t work, study, don’t study, work, stop being so stubborn, stop being so remissive”.
I thought I was working on myself, while instead I was destroying day by day the person I was. I was destroying everything that was part of me. I was looking myself in the mirror, with that hair not too bright, not too dark, those neat eyebrows, not that much though, and those tired eyes, wondering who was that girl who was looking at me through the looking glass.
My quest for research almost led to me self-destruction. I realised it only a few times ago, and I tried to pick up the pieces, trying to ask myself what I really liked, what I can really be. I have always been sure that we should live trying to be better, and I have always been sure that you cannot grow or change without making a comparison to others. However, at the centre of this process I should put myself.
If someone asked me what is perfection, I would answer him that it does not exist. What gets a little close to perfection I think is the attempt to be happy with who you are and where you are.
*****
This is a translated version of the essay ‘La perfezione non è di questo mondo’, originally written in Italian and published on Medium. Thank you to Maria Nizzero for translating it.
The person who wrote this personal essay doesn’t want to reveal their identity.
If you want Collage Mag to publish your story, anonymously or not, send an email to redazionecollagemag@gmail.com or write us a message on Facebook.
