Not So Perfect

Sat, 01/24/2015 - 23:58 -- lrliu


At some point, I thought that dandelions taught me how to live.

Sometimes the breezes would kick in and gently uproot my desire to stay still,
And I would bend and let myself be carried
In the same direction as Nature’s pacific sighs.
Nothing could faze me, I thought.
When even strong winds blew, I was never too reluctant to let go
Of myself,
And I watched naively as parts of me floated up
And out of sight.


The truth is, I am just like you.
I take blurry pictures of my life and spend hours craving
And so I try what I think will work.
Increasing the highlights, decreasing the shadows,
Hoping that the contrast will direct your eyes to my colors
And turn you away from the


I get caught up in the gust
Or should I say, the hype,
That coaxes me to let go of the weak hold that I already have
on myself
And I suppose that, at close proximity,
It’s almost beautiful to see parts of myself float away until they

But if I just take a few steps back, it might be horrifying
To find myself lost in the flurry of seed heads,
Millions of them caught up by the same wind.
And they think themselves daring when they let go,
But the truth is, they are just like us.
Craving for clarity in this dandelion fog
That can only be seen for what it is
from a distance.

From a distance, they say that the earth looks like a beautiful blue orb.
But I wonder if anyone has ever dared to say
That, from a distance,
The most intelligent creatures on this blue orb are
Only playing games, chasing each other’s tails as they,
Ironically, try to get ahead.

Let me be the first to say: it’s no wonder that I have a hard time remembering
Who I am sometimes.
I get confused trying to reconcile this social fog with
My own labyrinthine thoughts,
Taunted by the fears of disapproval that make me a
Nervous wreck.
But how can there be room for imperfection when everyone else seems to
Have it all,


The reality is that, from a distance, I know
My insecurities betray any courage I could ever muster.
And though many a New Year’s resolutions have started with
“I’ll be more real this year by…”
My own thoughts
Get so lost
In counting the costs of showing who I really am.


The truth is that the real me hates creepy crawly things and
Enjoys music that some people only hear in elevators.
I am clumsy, messy, and sometimes helpless, and
I’m okay with having breakfast three times a day.
I have friends that will hold onto me no matter how much I want to let go,
And I know that I am blessed.

Yes, my grip is loose and I am easily carried away.
But, this time around, I’m going to hold on
To my not-so-put-together,
Not-so-perfect self.

Yes, even in the wind. 

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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