Perfect is boring.
Imagine a perfect person. Truly flawless.
Completely unrelatable.
If you were perfect — whatever the tits that is anyways — you’d find yourself so bored. Nothing to work for, nothing to master or develop excellence towards. You’d play a game of basketball and never make a mistake. Every shot is a perfect swish. No turnovers. Never get scored on. Win every game.
Lame.
The messiness is what makes the rollercoaster of life fulfilling. Fuck perfect. It’s an imaginary, conceptualized state that is absolutely unattainable anyways. So what I missed a newsletter post on a Wednesday. Oh no, send me to prison. Oh no, I can’t say “send me to prison” because then I’m manifesting a spell that will send me to prison, oh no, I have to delete it and write something else.
Fuck that. I don’t control shit. Your mom loves you regardless. (Mom, I know you’re reading this. I’m sorry (not sorry) for cursing. I still love you too.) (Dad, I am also sorry (not sorry). And I still love you too.)
So does God.
Perfect sucks. You don’t want perfect. You want life. Curiosity. Adventure. A FUCK TON of experimentation, failure, mistakes, missteps, learnings, triumphs, defeats, war cries, moments of despair, hallelujahs, and whatever the fuck else life throws at you. That’s the rollercoaster. If it only went up it’d be the most boring rollercoaster in the universe. Enjoy the ride.
You’re probably enjoying this post immensely right now. I am certainly enjoying writing it (oh no, can I say certain? Is anything certain? Only a sith deals in absolutes. I can’t use absolutes. Oh no.). Why is it so enjoyable? Cuz it’s authentic, bitches. Straight from the hip. Raw, off the cuff Cole. That’s what you really want.
So fuck it. Fuck perfect. Omg, I cursed for the first time on Substack. Sue me (don’t actually, that would suck. But not as bad as being perfect).
Let it rippppppppppp homie. Fuck the bs noise and imaginary shoulds of whatever tf your life should look like. Trust the unfolding that’s processing through you. Trust the current of life. It’s perfect.
Do whatever the fluff you want. Fucking let go of the bullshit outcomes. Nothing has to be any type of way. God still loves you. And you are God.
Great. Now we’ve closed this newsletter with a God complex. Mission complete. Catch you on the next one.