Perfection

Sometimes, it is the most simplest moments in life, that feel the most perfect. Some times coming home smelling like cigarettes and alcohol, when you drank a little bit too much, and your make up is pretty much worn off – because the night was long -,  feels a lot more perfect than looking great does. Sometimes I just don’t want to try and be perfect, sometimes i just want you to see me.

Listen to the silent prayers I speak before I go up to the karaoke machine. And hear  my voice when I stand up there and I sing. Clap for me and tell me I did a good job, cause some days I need to feel like I can do something at least. But you just told me that you thought it was amazing that I was brave enough to stand up there.
And i wondered.
If I had to be brave cause actually I do sing a tad weird, and I still got up there and performed.

But then I look around me. And I hear someone, who points at me, and says, did you hear her? She sounded amazing!

And it just feels perfect. Because I am not. My makeup doesn’t look as good as it did when I left my house. And my face is a bit red, because its warm in the bar, and i start to sweat.

But yet, someone points at me and says that I have talent.

I sang again after that. And again.

I was proud, because usually I can’t sing in front of people. It feels like the evidence for a change, I didn’t believe in anymore.

Then I went home. With the smell of alcohol and cigarettes in my hair and in my clothes. Perfection.

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