When I was a kid, I thought that I can find nirvana, utopia, seventh heaven or whatever you call it. I thought that I can reach that state by playing Barbie dolls and “luto-lutuan.” But everything turned into a deeper theory when I turned 10. That was when I doubted of peter pan and tinkerbell. My level of satisfaction elevates from Barbie dolls to French fries and my la-la land wasn’t that superficial since then. Eventually, my dream started to create perfect people, house and life that I should live when time comes. I had disappointments and that was when I learned to criticize, to discriminate. From then on, my dream-land detached itself from me and distance expanded continuously. Things were never great but fine, people were never excellent but satisfactory. Should I blame my parents or should I blame my stupidity? And this stupidity allowed me to experience frustrations, rejections and failures just to reach “my perfection.”
When I became older, perfection attached to fiction. I realized that there’s no perfect person; house or life that I should look up to. Peter Pan and Tinkerbell were not real! Everything was already made perfect for me. Imperfection needs respect, it creates beauty and beauty satisfies my level of quality. Perfect something will never be possible in the real world. Appreciation comes from within not from anything else or standards, whatsoever. And that concludes…. that I was never been to never-never land…but rather, real world has its own land which I must call, my own hurly burly wonderland.