Emerging From The Maze
A struggling journey to accept myself as-is, in this moment, with all my imperfection and scars.
Nine thousand eight hundred ninety three…
The days I’ve lived, struggled, cherished, navigated. Moments of doubt, joy, loneliness, fear, and self questioning. Moments I dare, moments I hide, moments I reveal.
When the world asks me to conform and to follow the norm, a fraction of me would fall off life’s swarm.
When the world tries to mold me and shape me into a nice clean vase, a chunk of me would deteriorate and misplace.
When the world sees normal as we know it as the only normal there could ever be, a piece of me is subnormal, as if I’m a paranormal. Or an alien.. Or a misfit.. Or an ugly duckling. Not seen, rarely acknowledged, striving for inauthentic validation.
So who am I?
While perfection is put on pedestal, and imperfection is merely a crowd on the stand, I’m just trying to get a single applause.
It’s as if getting by means weakness, and acceleration is too thrashy, then what exactly is perfection?
When offering kindness and exposing vulnerability means I am not ready for the world, then when exactly can I be ready?
And when by the grace of God and the universe I was put onto earth on day one, is seen as just another being occupying more space, then where can I trace the meaning of this maze, this endless human labyrinth?
Perhaps accepting self is an illusion one can never fully embrace, a marathon one could never pace, a test one could never ace.
It’s time for me to forgive myself. To be still and be a supporter of me, instead of a judge or an impersonator or a mime without identity. To be okay with not being okay when society demands that golden illusive perfection. To be content just the way I am, right this second, right this moment, accepting my present self.
As-is, and to not seek external validation, but to embrace the lack of it.
