It's been drawn yet. You'll never square it up
Forget your sins: your mere imperfections will drag you down. The discrepancy between the ideal image of ourselves that we, miraculously, have and the reality of being regularly and dependably off the mark is bound
to produce unbearable tension that will topple us.
For a while, when we are young and with the help of faith and/or
a whole range of outrageously bogus psychological techniques, we may be able to
sustain a vision, or illusion, of our prospective perfection; we may fool
ourselves that one day, with our eyes not quite in focus, we may get to see the
ideal version of ourselves, the one we invented as late kids or early teenagers
and then kept nourishing, polishing and modifying.
But then comes a moment, and mine came yesterday evening, when we get overwhelmed by our flawed record and, finally, it becomes perfectly clear to us that there is just no way we can cut off that long train we drag full of the imperfections we committed and that we'll never manage to re-edit, re-publish or even airbrush the past - all the slightly or largely misused, mistaken, misunderstood, misconceived, missaid, mispresented, missing and missed stuff. What's more, we realise that we have been shaped as much by our perfect vision as by our imperfect execution, so even if the ideal is somewhere in Heaven, it definitely won’t be seen down here: we are fataly and frustratingly locked in an imperfect circle till we die, in most likelihood - imperfectly.
The botched circle from: neogaf.com
