If only we were told from the start that we were imperfect. That we could not strike the right cord unless we tried many times.If only we knew that we were made unevenly.
With brush strokes that were coming from darkness, in the middle of empty space.If only we knew we were never meant to get anything right the first, second or third time.Maybe then, we could pull through in times of chaos easier.Smoother.Expecting all the wrong turns to be a part of who we were.Someone forgot to tell us how complex and unsmoothly we are made.How the perfection of today is the opposite of humanity.If only we had space for the fumbling.Then the so-called wrong turns we made in the last few months would be seen as natural parts of our humanity.We would not be
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