“jamari sit up straight.”
“don’t slouch.”
“stop biting your nails.”
“i wish you could be more like the ______.”
“why aren’t you playing sports?”
“this silly writing this is just a hobby.”
“what website was that?”
“who are you talking too?”
“please don’t embarrass us.”
“god jamari how could you be so stupid?”…

i’m soooooooooo feelin’ this beyonce album.
judging from her sales,
you are as well.
while all the “gurls” had her ratchet sexual songs on replay,
ive been listening to “pretty hurts” on repeat today.
that track speaks to me.

i grew up amongst a family that ruled on perfectionism.
they tried to mold me into what would be “the perfect child”.
everything was a competition for me growing up with other kids.
now i won’t sit here and act like it was all bad,
because it taught me valuable life lessons,
but one thing i will say that it made me care entirely too much what people thought.

today it seems like everyone is dying (literally) to be perfect.
the perfect muscles.
the perfect hair.
the perfect smile.
the perfect social media account.
my parents taught me that perfect people get the perfect life.
if you aren’t,
then you will live your life as a failure.
no one likes a failure.
so when all these un-perfect things started happening in my life,
i was instantly reminded of what they use to say.
how they use to pick me apart.
compare me to other kids.
that’s why i got so depressed and would beat myself up.
even with the wolves i wanted.
the ones who i thought were so perfect.
well i thought i was just as perfect too.
making sure my teeth were white,
pimples were under control,
clothes weren’t dirty,
and always smelling good.
what was fuckin’ my head up is they would say they were lookin for “this”,
and then pick “that”:

“that” wilder-fuckin-beast that doesn’t have shit going for them.
“that” around the way hoe with crazy mileage on their box
“that” dusty hood booger who smokes weed all day
“that” messy queen who tries to out them for stardom

well for 2014,
im saying “fuck allllllllllllllllll la THAT“.
my quest for perfectionism has come to an end.
im over trying to appear perfect for people who got worse flaws than me.
their insides are filthy.
dumbing myself down and filtering so i wouldn’t lose.
well i pretty much lost a lot this year soooo….

being down in florida is teaching me to really just chill.
karaoke is the “anti-perfect” and her wolf is obsessed with her.
reading “the secret” is also helping as well.
im learning to embrace myself,
learn to take compliments,
love my weaknesses,
praise my strengths,
and most of all: being imperfect is perfect.
everything will fall into place when i do.
“a ha ha”.

x watch “pretty hurts” video here

lowkey: these (baller) wolves better hope they are perfect enough for me.