Dear Perfection,

You’re a bitch. Not as in difficult or overwhelming. Not as in hard or strenuous. But as in, you’re a bitch. A real, bona fide, obnoxious, who-do-you-think-you-are…bitch. You make me want to scream.

So, I’m kicking you out of my world, out of my life, out of all of it. Starting now. Here’s how this is going to work…

You’re going to leave me alone. That’s it. We’re going our separate ways. It’s over between us, we’re done. That’s that.

The thing is, you prove your self-worth by making sure there are no supposed cracks-in any of it-- your body, your mask, your everything. You obsess over said cracks, look down upon them. I can’t be around it anymore. It’s not my thing.

I think the cracks are beautiful, they’re real, they’re what make this whole life thing worth living. Without them, without the gorgeous cracks, it’s over. There’s nothing. There’s no learning, there’s no growing, there’s no point.

Day in and day out you try to convince me that the cracks need to be filled, they need to be accounted for, covered up, replaced, refurbished, redone. But it’s the moments when I begin to hear you, to agree with you, that I become unhappy. You seduce me. It’s unfair. And I’m done.

I’m no longer willing to fight with you, question you, prove anything to you.

I feel bad for you, though. I really do.

You’re pitiful, you’re desperate, you’re sad. You’re unfulfilled, fake, stressed. You’re not real, and you’re not interesting. You’re boring and one dimensional. You’re a simpleton in a sea of fabulous and delicious possibilities. You’re fragile in a way that makes life about fear and love about loss. You’re acting and you’re pretending.

You’re exhausting.

You ruin relationships, you cause pain, you make gorgeous talented and fabulous people question themselves and assume false things about themselves. You make me think I can’t, you make me think I can’t unless it’s a certain way, unless that person, place, thing, idea…is a certain way. Or unless I’m a certain way. You keep me away from my very best self- the one you’re acting as if you’re trying to help me to become. You’re deceptive as hell.

As much pain and sadness as you’ve caused, now that we’re done, I do truly wish the best for you. I hope you find a place in yourself where you’re happy, where you’re real, where you’re honest. I hope you find your breath, your joy, your acceptance, your balance.

I hope you experience love as it was meant to be experienced, allowing yourself to be loved for who you are, and fall into loving someone else for who they are--with holes, with cracks, with shortcomings, with quirks, with good days and not so good days, as a work in progress--as a human being.

I hope so much for you. But, you’ll have to figure it all out without me. I’m freeing myself from your toxicity. Starting now…

Thanks for respecting my decision,

Brooke.