We can quickly look at others lives and think they are so perfect, so right, so organized
But we are only getting a glimpse at their stories
We do not know what is underneath
The scars and heartache 
Wounds that haven't healed and struggles that can feel like quicksand 
It can be easy to see only the good things 
To wish for the perceived perfection 
But their is no such thing as perfection
There is only perception and our inablitiy
To accept and appreciate the divine beauty that lives withn each of us