perfection

¨Staring at myself through shards of broken glass. The girl staring back with the lonely eyes doesn't look like me. I long for the moments when I could appreciate someone complimenting me, when I could go without comparing myself to other girls. I had taken that contentment for granted. I couldn't tell you what changed. Suddenly I was too fat, suddenly I was just an ugly girl blending into the crowd. People still called me beautiful, beautiful is great but beautiful isn't perfect. Instagram filled my head with pictures of what I thought perfection should be. A habit grew to an obsession and I couldn't handle it. My brain was jumbled by ways to make myself perfect. But what is perfect? Who is sitting at a table making the boundaries and the standards for perfection and beauty? I wish somebody would have told me that perfection is only being content with yourself. But those are just words, and would I have believed them?¨