Perfection = Happiness ?

I'm under the impression that more and more people strive for this wide-spread phenomenon
called perfection that is about to dominate the planet

The industries feed off that feeling of inadequacy and push it down our throats
So that we're consumed with the negligible and lose track of what's important

And from what i can gather they must be doing one heck of a job given the piles of money that gets thrown at their doors as we speak

I simply can not grasp the idea behind the excessive need for perfection when we weren't made to be perfect, we are far from perfect
Or the obsessive need to mask our faces, to mask our feelings, to hide our true identities under a thick layer of lies, to create an illusion
And the brave question is, for who?

Thus I’m content with living without the suffocating standards on trying to reach it
because i am aware of the fact that it will only drag me down, suppressing my individuality,
instructing me on how to look perfect, act perfect
& feel perfect in order to be perfect

"but who are you kidding, who doesn't want to be perfect?"
because, you know, who in his right mind would settle for something imperfect?

This endless and pretentious search for perfection will only drain my stamina
and appeal to all my insecurities, it's a temporary fix to self-loathing

So, yes, i refuse to indulge myself in this tiresome process that will do nothing more than add fuel to my frustration and dissatisfaction from these imposed personal pursuits of perfection
I find far more meaning behind the improvement of oneself than this evasive, broad and elusive word
which some people are mistakenly convinced equates to happiness

And I’m done with trying to meet perfection when she has always stood me up
I’m fed up with trying to impress people who will never be impressed with my existence
I won't be compressed to tick all the boxes off their list
That wasn’t in my to-do-list when I woke up this morning
Nor will it ever be

Instead I’ll try to become a better person for myself
and for the ones who saw my worth when I could not

Also there seems to be a heavy formed bond, a secret correlation
When in reality it’s a suicide mission looked down through a kaleidoscope
Stare it for too much and it becomes a powerful obsession
an underlying condition that won’t subside I suppose

Perfection isn’t equal to happiness
Perfection is a distorted image of happiness, of self-fulfillment
They do however share a quality, they are both constructs of the human mind
therefore they are subjective, they don’t have a solid form

I don’t want to become perfect, I want to become better
To improve myself in any way possible

Because to me, happiness is to be comfortable in your skin
To not have to bare the idea of being less of anything
To know your worth
To be original