That night, I had an epiphany in Bienecke Plaza, as everyone should. “I am not perfect, I will never be perfect.” There, I said it. The thought echoed against the marble edifices. A flock of pigeons may or may not have flown away in the background. Okay, I ‘ve had this realization before, but it never came with this particular sick idea: I feel like I have to be a different person for me to like me.
March 1, 2013