Roughers | an Ashton Irwin Fanfic

Chapter 6

Perfection; noun

the condition, state, or quality of being free or as free as possible from all flaws or defects.

To be perfect, you must be free of fault, you must do no wrong yet feel no right. Humbleness is key.

 Perfection is this city. Perfection is the Pure. The makers of our "Utopian" city created it to bring the world to a balance after the war.

Perfection is what every citizen here in our city strives for. Maybe it's just the idea or the government demand of it. Either one is just as frightening.

If you go into the heart of The Pure, and stop a person, male or female, and were to ask them. "What are your goals in life?" 

They would merely laugh, gazing at you as if you were crazy for asking such a question. But soon enough they would respond, quite confident in their answer. "Why, perfection of course."

Because what else is there to strive for in a city where everything is handed to you on a golden pedestal, and the only responsibility is to make yourself as appealing as possible. As perfect as possible. So any sane person would reply just that. "To be perfect, what else?"

But what really is perfection, I often wondered to myself during those sleepless nights in the tower, getting less than my required amount of shut eye.

Yes, you may be able to look it up in the dictionary and give a highly sophisticated sentence that means as much as gum on the bottom of a shoe, but what else is it?

To some, perfection is physical.

It's the way your cheek bones prominent underneath your eyes, or the silky softness of your hair. It's your body, the curves as well as the muscles, along to the length of your legs and the petitness of your torso. It's the softness of your skin and the way your teeth radiate white. complemented by plump pink lips. It's everything only the eye can see that matters.

But to others, it's what the eye doesn't quite catch is what is considered perfection.

To them, it's the way the gears spin in someone's head when in thought. It's the way they speak, how their presence radiates off them in their own individual kind of way. It's how they present them self, as well as their opinions and thoughts. Their theories on life and the mysteries that come along with it. How they laugh and how they charm. It's their ideas and secrets, their fantasies and dreams. How they have obsessions and favorites, their values and morals. Who they are and who they want to be. It's the way they're themselves, original and creative. The people who can provoke your thoughts with life long wonders and fathoms.

It's to these people, that imperfection, is perfection.

I'm glad to say that I, Harley Kraus, am one of those people.

I enjoy nature. A lot. I like the way the leaves fall in the blissful autumn, leaving the ground a canvas. I like the way flowers bloom in the spring and how all life seems to fade in the winter. And most of all, I like the way the sun shines in the Summer and the saddening rain that comes with it. How the birds chirp in morning song, setting the calmness for the hour, and the bats and firefly's that fill the damp air in the night time.