Perfect.

Everyone tells me to “just be myself”
Not to care what anyone else thinks.
But there are two problems.
I don’t know who I am,
And I care what others think.
I can’t just change because someone tells me to.
I love them for trying to help.
Sometimes they do help.
But most of the time,
They just introduce another thing for me to fail at.
And sometimes I just get tired of failing.
I want to be able to do something right.
To be a good friend,
To care about other people,
To be a shoulder to cry on.
I love being there for people,
But I can’t make their problems go away.
I can only let them know that I’m their friend.
Sometimes the feeling isn’t mutual.
Someone once told me I was searching for something I wouldn’t find:
A perfect person.
I know I can’t be perfect.
But I would like to be closer to it.