imperfections: (im)perfect

The final part of the anthology.
This piece was written as a slam poem, and performed at a school poetry slam.
Paired with this poem.

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in elementary school, 

I learned to

be perfect at grades, 

to choke down 

instructions in pills 

made of chalkboard dust

that dulled crayon colours 

on the canvas

into black and white numbers

on the lined page,

to accept that less than 100% was to be 

less than perfect

less than whole. 

and I was addicted 

to the taste of empty praise

so I could forget 

the pill got stuck in

my throat every time I got A’s and 

smiley faced stickers on my homework page with

“great job as always”

because I was perfect

in middle school, 

I learned to

be perfect at socializing, 

to spend hours in the bathroom 

staring at my reflection fixing 

my hair, skin, teeth

until my face became the mirror itself

so I could parrot my classmate’s words and their laughter

and slot myself in their numbers 

to never be the 

odd one out.

I anchored myself

to a social structure

and sank into the deep 

of conformity

weighed down by the burdens of a million smiles 

because I was perfect

in high school 

I learned to

be perfect at hiding things,

to stifle sobs behind doors 

and bury shaking hands underneath long sweater sleeves, 

to grit my teeth and lie

“I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine”

but my heart was the eye of a hurricane 

made of procrastinated essays 

and report card grades

pushing me off a pedestal I had made 

for myself

and I was trying to convince everyone 

that I was just flying not 

falling

crashing into a million pieces of ceramic

BECAUSE I WAS FUCKING PERFECT

a few days ago 

sitting in earth and space class 

I learned

that when a nebula lets go 

of its restraint, 

all stardust and void colliding 

inwards in the flux of its own gravity

it does not die - 

it changes into stars,

into galaxies.

so I took a breath

and let perfection go

because I am imperfect.