fae ♡

Am i meant to exist forever as a secretary to someone elses life? I help them file away their traumas neatly into the back of their minds, all the while it is in the forefront of mine. Is this my “I am”? Or perhaps i do not know who i am so i must be always occupied with someone else. For when those superfluous words, phrases, and prayers are done and said, nothing is left to call “Me”.

Humans dont worship god we worship perfection. We worship it so much in fact we imagined beings of perfection that we called gods. Flawless, never ending beings without those disgusting imperfections from that we call “Human”. These gods call on us to join them in perfection, yet we can never quite reach these beings we created ourselves. Only after we are long dead and rid of our imperfect human bodies can we be cleansed, only then, can we be perfection. We spend all our crawling human lives longing for when we can soar above all that we are and join perfection. Little do we know, high in that sky free of all that revolting imperfection, we will softly fade into nothingness entirely; because without our imperfections we do not exist at all. Perfection does not exist at all.