I tend to romanticize people. When I see people who do things that I think are interesting or adventurous, or who are just in a position that I consider of greater value than my own life position, I tend to turn them into some perfect being in my head, marveling at their life and wondering how (if) I will ever be as good or exciting as they are.
But then reality hits and something happens that makes me realize they're only human. It's usually something small and pretty insignificant: an unkind word, a doubting thought, an altogether-human aspect of their being. They are probably still awesome and exciting, but not the perfect person I thought them to be.
And this is sometimes disappointing. But also very relieving and comforting.
Because now I know I don't have to be perfect either.
But then reality hits and something happens that makes me realize they're only human. It's usually something small and pretty insignificant: an unkind word, a doubting thought, an altogether-human aspect of their being. They are probably still awesome and exciting, but not the perfect person I thought them to be.
And this is sometimes disappointing. But also very relieving and comforting.
Because now I know I don't have to be perfect either.
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