“It’s all messy: The hair. The bed. The words. The Heart. Life.”
– William Leal
We all strive for perfection—for making ourselves the absolute best human specimens we can. As a country, the financial and daily investment in self-improvement is never-ending. Isn’t that the point of life, after all? To make yourself a better person than you were yesterday?
We all do this—read self-help books, spend hours at the gym, bookmark dozens of articles that we’ll likely never read. I’m guilty of these things probably more so than others. If you look at my 25+ boards on Pinterest alone, you’d be safe to assume the following about me:
The life we project on social media rarely mirrors the actual moments of our lives. Sure, I have plenty of glamorous pictures of fancy wine bottles I’ve consumed on Instagram, but where are the photos of me playing The Sims for hours on end (in the same sweatpants I wore the day before)? Where are the records of me getting angry at everything in my path because I had a rough commute home? What about the moments I cry simply because my hormones sent me on a rampage and I literally don’t know what else to do with myself?
Let’s face it. No one wants to see that side of my life.
And that’s totally okay. Because here’s the thing—as much as I love honesty and vulnerability, I don’t need to see someone else’s messiness. Nor do they need to see mine. We’ve all been there. We know what it looks like.
Nobody’s life is perfect; we’re all busy and doing far too many things at once. So when I look back at my photos years from now, will I be upset that I don’t have the less-than-perfect moments recorded? Absolutely not. I won’t care about the tears, bad meals, arguments, and sub-par wine (okay, maybe I will care about that one).
I’ll care about those moments that were perfect and special to me—even if they would be insignificant to others. Let others remember my life as one filled with corks, Cosmo Kramer pictures, and happiness.
Give me the messy moments to deal with on my own and I’ll show you a photo album filled with snapshots of a life well lived.
And if you’ll excuse me, I have more things to mess up and memories to create.
Writer, editor, and storyteller living in the Twin Cities.