Sometimes you see the perfect life in front of you. And a part of you wishes you had that perfect life, filled with imagined comfort and imagined warmth. So you take a picture of it.

And then you realize the perfect picture you’re looking at is slightly crooked.

And just like that, all you see going forward is how that picture is slightly crooked. And how you should have probably angled the phone slightly differently when you’d taken that otherwise perfect picture.

It’s so easy to find imperfection in something you’ve always thought was perfect, when you start looking for the imperfections.

The idea of perfection. Such a figment of our imagination.

What a waste of a perfectly perfect life, chasing the perfect perfection.