‘The Imperfect Human’

DTR

“Perfection.”

“To the great Aristotle, to be perfect, ultimately meant to be complete. There be no flaw, there be no negligence of any aspect of the mind, the body, the soul.”

Sitting on his throne in the former sight of the destroyed house of the Family sits the new Rewind Champion, The Virus, Don’t Trust Reason. 

“The claim for perfection was aided by the fact that there were nothing left to add, or subtract. I come before you the lesser image of the perfect goal, the spitting image of everything that is wrong with our society. An infected Virus left to lay claim to whatever I can grasp onto.”

“But nye there be perfection in every sliver of every corner and despite the intent of the inheritence presented before, every man is created the same but instances and impressions stand out more than others and more to some.”

The shine of the title catches the eye of DTR who looks down at it before picking up a book.

“The fairytale that is every ounce of purity that can be fit into the threshold. Changing often allows you to continually strive for the perfect existence. To some, being perfect consumes their every waking moment, but the blame cannot be placed on said individual, it’s the perception surrounding that belittles those who can’t stand on the same equal footing.”

“But with all perfection there comes imperfection, the ultimate paradox if you will.”

He fingers his way through the pages before coming to his final destination. 

“Cael, every statistic about you screams that you’re the living and breathing embodiment, the definition of perfection. But I see the through the facade, I see that your perfect image is nothing more than imperfect perfection.”

“Your history of superb accolades presents you under this fluorescent light, but the microscope tends to reveal the flaws that you claim cannot be scene. When gauzing through with the naked eye, you play the part. American hero, Olympic Gold Medal Winner, but under that skin you akin the same to me.”

He stumbles upon a picture of a young Cael Gable, celebrating after one of his many Olympic victories.

“I wear my scars on my sleeve while you try to hide them in the closet. Unfortunately for you Cael, dirty laundry has presented itself to prove that you’re nothing short of being imperfect. The problem with imbeciles like you, is how hard you’ll try to keep under wraps the skeletons that you hide in your closet. The fairytale you’ve tried to ease yourself into Cael is nothing more than the wildest nightmare ever imagined.”

“I’ve lived a life of inadequacy and I’ve got nothing left to hide, nothing left to prove. You keep pushing those demons deeper in that closet, you keep telling yourself that you and your father will be okay.”

Pulling a lighter out of his pocket, he flicks it, lighting the page of Cael on fire and throwing it to the ground. 

“The imperfect human is you Cael. My words are like daggers, the truth is symbolic because even in every ounce of it there lies the imperfection of an opinion. To some the fable of making mistakes is an embarrassment but I lead you Cael to your imperfect final resting place.”

“In our life we make choices to become what we become. The entirety of your life has come under the guidance of those propelling you substantially to your ignorant perfection. I applaud you Cael because through looking glass, I’ll magnify your failure and amplify the imperfect human in you.”

The fire begins to grow larger as the Virus laughs.

“Welcome to the perfect Family.”

The scene fades.