All my life I tried to be perfect. For my mom, my friends, my family, and for me. Now, I start to realize that maybe the only way to be happy, is to be imperfect. I’m tired of the fight – I’m tired of the doubt, the guilt, the insecurity, the feeling of not being good enough.
The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. At home, I most of the time felt terribly incomplete – I felt as if I didn’t satisfy, while all I actually should have cared about, was me. This year, I took my gap. I took my break out of my daily life existence, and I started to care about me. Still, I am frustrated – it is hard, to please myself, with scores that are far too high for a girl of my age. No – that was who I used to be. I’m 26 now, and I don’t need to proof anything anymore – I should start to enjoy life, day by day, while slowly moving forward in my own unique direction.
I must admit: I do not know all of the time where I am going. Still, I know what matters most: I want to have a family, someday soon, and I want to spend most of my time with the man I love. There is no picture-perfect. There are dreams, hope, perspectives and plans. That’s all there is, and that’s all I need for now. It is enough. It is more than enough to make my dreams come true.