Upon my room renovation, I couldn’t help but notice all the imperfections merged into my four walls. Inches of dust collected amongst the surface and hole after hole with uneven cracks and edgy bumps neighboring.
Yet, the room hadn’t only serve the position of being my very own area to acquire peace and rest, it had been my escape throughout these years of consciousness whenever I came across troubles at Home. Little did I pay attention to the crude designs and the rugged blotches of paint - the imperfections made up the perfection I found within this tiny area I called ‘mine.’
But I plastered these holes today after so many years, sanded down the jagged edges and removed the chipping paint by repainting it to another color. Still, the blemishes weren’t completely concealed. And it sort of hit me that no matter how hard you try to cover up imperfections, its existence would always be there. You just have to accept it as a whole — flaws and all.
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