Pressured.

I'm not perfect, I will be the first to admit it. I have many flaws about me, all of which, I will openly admit to. However, lately, I've been feeling like that's a bad thing, not being perfect. And it's totally not. Often, we put ourselves under the pressure of being so, for whatever reason..
We're human. Humans do stupid things. Humans have flaws. If we didn't, we would be like we were robots, wandering around like R2D2 in Star Wars. Humans make mistakes. Humans forget books, and humans fail tests. We can not hold ourselves to a standard of perfection, when there is no such thing. We can try to be, but often it fails.
Also, we can't be like someone. I hate it honestly when my mother expects me to do the things the way that she did them or wants me to do them. Those choices my mom made were good for her, not for me. I'm not my mother. We're totally different people. But yet, she expects me to attack life the way she did. And I'm afraid that it's something that I can't do. And that has created a weight of attempts of perfection that crush me at times, causing me to crack like an egg. Of course, I realize that I'm not perfect, and I'm not my mother.
I'm me. Natalie. I have glasses, I spend A LOT of my time reading and writing, and I like rock music. I play an instrument, and I want to be a psychologist slash writer, and will be an eventual double major. It's a lot, but I know I can handle anything that's thrown at my way. There are times when I lose my head, yeah that's normal. But I am me, and if you can't accept that, then it's best that you don't stand in my way when I prove you to be wrong.
Sometimes, when the weight of pressure is too hard to bear, you realize that you are perfect the way that you are. After all, a friend once told me that everything's going to be okay, in the end. And if it's not okay, then it's not the end. And it's not the end. It's only the damn beginning.