Perfect

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I'm not perfect. I suppose that no one is, not even deities.
Where do you draw the line between standing up for what you believe in and giving in to what is best for another person?
How far do you take the bluff before the outcome is something you never wanted?
I was warned not to push. To hold off.
I see myself pushing anyway.
It's like picking my arms. I know that I don't want it. I know I hate the marks, the scars, the looks. I feel the pain and I hate myself instantly. Yet... I do it.
It's beyond a compulsion. It's beyond logic.
But I'm not going to sit here and blame chemicals or DNA.
I'm in control of my world and nobody else.

I look in the mirror and the person staring back is not someone that I like.

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