Perfection

Objects and items of clothing are perfect when they are new. They are pleasing to the eye. Pristine and neat. I recently bought a new pair of trousers, and I was very pleased with them. But today I noticed that a tiny bit of fabric had loosened and frayed. I kept on touching the fabric, trying in vain to restore the item to its previous appearance. The tiny imperfection is hardly visible, but in my mind it looms large. And I can’t help but think, what if the whole item unravels? It was perfect and beautiful, now it is spoiled. It was well ordered, now it is messy and tarnished.

All my life I have been obsessed with perfection and completeness. As a child, I would take ages to open presents, and then the item would sit unused for weeks or even months. Once used, the item was no longer new, and soon it would have to be thrown away. What an awful thought! I must prevent destruction at all costs. I now know that it is impossible to prevent the incoming and outgoing tide of time, but despite knowing this on an intellectual level, I still can’t help but get overly attached to precious possessions.

 

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