Imperfection

by Srishti Singh, Bhopal

This world was more colourful when I was younger.

I painted orange eggplants and red skies.

I coloured haphazardly and out of the lines.

I used to walk zig-zag on streets and try to balance on the edges.

I used to sing at the top of my lungs, all the wrong lyrics to the wrong tunes sometimes.

It felt really good though.

I always used to wonder if everyone saw the same things with their eyes or is this world a different illusion to everyone.

I still do.

Turns out people only see what they have been told they will be able to see after looking at something.

However, a lot of people also do look beyond.

Imperfections somehow made me a lot happier because I was a stranger to the concept.

Then as I started learning about this world, the skies were back to blue, and the songs were exactly what they were supposed to originally be.

I stopped running around the streets and really just put one step in front of another until eventually I lost track of the street I was on or the people around me.

The songs lost all tune and the paintings were just a guided depiction.

There was this deafening silence and the same colours all around.

Its funny how they teach you to be ‘normal’ and take all the essence away.

The fear of imperfection has now become a good friend of mine.

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