I find myself asking many questions.

They are often easy to answer, and,

without a second thought, the answers are

hard to question.

 

I ask

What makes someone perfect?

 

Perfect is giving all of you to everything you do,

Perfect is achieving success no matter the sacrifice,

Perfect is the absence of flaws.

 

But I am not perfect.

I am riddled with fears and faults;

Each obstacle presenting an opportunity for failure.

Such defeat is devastating

because it means that I am not

Capable.

Intelligent.

because it means that I am not

Enough.

 

This definition exists within a narrow scope;

obtuse to the kaleidoscope of life.

You have taught me to challenge these definitions,

as they are nuanced and full of exceptions.

I am to question them because they are

mere expectations,

fraught with societal lies

and detrimental mentalities.

 

Instead, I ask

What makes someone happy?

 

Happy is leaving supportive sticky notes on your desk,

Happy is finding roots in a community

brimming with love,

Happy is cherishing the small victories.

 

I am happy.

I am riddled with fears and faults,

and I am growing.

I am aware that there is triumph in

my goals growing with my sense of self,

my priorities shifting,

allowing me to redefine success.