The imperfect man

I get up in the morning on time.

I tidy my room and keep it decked up.

I exercise for a quarter of an hour.

I have a healthy breakfast

I scan through the current news affairs.

I reach my office on time.

I am hard-working and sincere

I am focused and target oriented.

The clock signals my home coming. I’m always on time.

Is this what you would call being “perfect.” Is it not vaguely ideal? Do you dream of the kind of life?

To me, it’s stifling. The entire scenario is picture-perfect. It’s choking.

Seems OCD rather than perfectionism.

The word perfect is a total misnomer. It’s “illusory.”

I could have followed the same chronology but with some breathing space. This gives me some flexibility (and a lot of respite).

It's okay to get up late, leave the sheets, skip breakfast, and miss a bus/train. I don't see it as an offence.

It happens to all of us and I see no reason to despise this.

I am me, and not a smartphone. I’m not a robot. I’m a limited edition. I’m a human.

I make mistakes, introspect and learn from my experiences. That's perfectly normal.

I make improvisations in my schedule and have an inbuilt feedback mechanism that evaluates my decisions. I have faults and I correct them.

I re-evaluate as I ponder on the happenings of the day.

There is nothing like “being perfect.”

You're awesome. Be how you are.

Be real and not perfect.