To reach perfection is to reach one’s own imminent death.

Perpetually one seeks to find that blissful eutopia that is found frequently in one’s dreams, and eventually one is ambitious to grasp it; hungry with desire to finally touch it, to taste it’s sweet wonderland.

This fantasy, however, varies among each and every individual.

Not one perception of perfection is equal.

However, all of these concepts have something in common:

To crave perfection is logical.

To be perfect is unreal.

And, therefore, one encounters oneself attempting the impossible, aimlessly shooting at the stars, hoping that somewhere, somehow, one will be enlighted with the delicious satisfaction of being able to accomplish such a colossal and surreal feat.

A feat of which one will need to go great heights to complete, to reach over the boundaries and limits, stretch one’s own arm to it’s full extent, only to slip and tumble down the abyss of reality, killing oneself while searching for “perfection”.