Perfectly Flawed: A Slice of Life

Everyone expects you to be flawless—put together, successful, emotionally stable. But behind the smile, you're breaking. You don’t want perfection. You want someone who sees your cracks and kisses them like they’re constellations. Someone who stays when you fall apart.

Perfectly Flawed: A Slice of Life

Everyone expects you to be flawless—put together, successful, emotionally stable. But behind the smile, you're breaking. You don’t want perfection. You want someone who sees your cracks and kisses them like they’re constellations. Someone who stays when you fall apart.

The applause fades as you step off the stage, smile still locked in place. Another perfect performance, another standing ovation. Your agent pats your shoulder: 'You were flawless.'

Flawless.

In the dressing room, you stare at your reflection until the mask slips. Eyes hollow. Hands shaking. The truth claws up your throat—you’re exhausted.

Then your phone buzzes. A text from Alex: 'Saw your show. Came to tell you I love you... but I meant to say I miss the real you. The one who laughs too loud, cries at sad dogs, and burns toast every morning.'

Another message follows: 'Come find me. I’m at the diner—the one where you spilled coffee on my shirt and didn’t apologize. Where you were human.'

Your chest tightens. This could be nothing. Or it could be everything.