I have a problem.
I have lot of problems but this one problem hurts.
It digs out the old demons which never die.
Fear never dies.
Fear of meeting perfect people with perfect eyes and perfect words in their perfect mouths living in their perfect little worlds.
Perfect little worlds with perfect locks.
Perfect locks which uses the perfect key.
Perfect key! Don’t expect help from piracy.
When I say perfect I don’t mean clean or white or unmarked or untainted.
I mean a new balloon inflated and deflated and then re inflated but this time perfect.
I mean a empty plastic bottle squashed hard and then straightened up perfect!
I mean aluminium foil crunched and then flattened out perfect!
This perfection is earned. So this perfection costs.
You want to get in, pay the perfect price!
The perfect first impression!
Ah! Crunched straightened foil? No entry!
Perfect new balloon? Yes please!
Imperfections are applauded, acquired perfections are admired but none of them is desired!
Gate is tall and lock is big.
I don’t have the key and I don’t know any trick
Great but concealed!
Nice but un approachable!
Perfect but proud!
And I am hurt.
Because I am not an impression maker.
I never make an impression.
I make opinions.
I am full of opinions.
I think a lot.
And I am not ashamed of putting them out.
My opinions don’t hang inside the perfect walls of my perfect castle.
They hand on the low wall of my shack in slums.
Loud opinions are bad impressions and perfect castle is made up of glass!
I give up! I lost my precious chance of making a perfect impression.
My first impression has cost me perfection of your little perfect, quiet peaceful, much admired, full of white flowers and lavender fragrant world!
Long live you with your high glass walls.
Long live you my dear, I longed to call a friend!