It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood 

Do you ever walk away from a situation thinking to yourself that you’re not perfect? Wondering why is it that the Jones family down the street have it all and you don’t? How is it that Mary and Bob can still swoon over one another after 20 years of marriage? Why is your family dysfunctional and their family is not?
Trust me, we all live tiny white lies. Can’t you feel fake? I can. 
There was a time in my life however that I lived a perfect life. In my mind I had to have it all and no one would have ever realized that on the inside I was dying. I lived this way for years. It’s exhausting. This fake little existence. Facade. 
When my life and it’s perfect little package opened with shreds of pain, I realized how alone I was. I had not let those that loved me in. I had not allowed myself to show others how vulnerable I was. So I found myself with this constant lump in my throat. This annoying little frog stuck in there. How do you utter the words, I am not perfect? Once I did, I was set free.
When you can’t sweep all the pain and disgust under the rug anymore. When all the dirt blows into your face and on all your belongings. Who will be there for you? Who will already know that the current is shifting? Who will hold you up and support you through the shadows of darkness? Can you answer this question? If you can’t, then it’s time to shed that facade and start realizing you aren’t alone. No one lives a perfect life and if anyone ever told you that you have to be perfect, then they are probably psychotic. I’m being serious. 
I’m open now because I’ve realized that the more open I am, the less work I have to do. The less fake I have to muster up. I’m open. There is no reason to wrap this package of my life back up and seal it tight. I’m not perfect and I don’t want to be. 
I am not one to have a thousand friends. I have few friends, in fact. I have friends that I talk to every day and friends that I haven’t spoken to in a year. However, each one of them I have chosen because I know that in a time of need, I can pick up my phone and call them. Without a doubt, I know my chosen few would drop everything and come to me. These are men and women who I know would tell me their life struggles. Who would admit that behind the scenes they suck at life sometimes. 
I beg you, if you’re perfect, rethink this. When your white lies become white noise, you may find yourself needing to be heard.

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