I’ve got two bumps on my right hand’s middle finger. I have three on my left foot’s big toe. I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure they’re all plantar warts.
Knowing that I have warts is upsetting.
As a kid, warts were some of the grossest of grossest things to have. Witches had them, after all, and if anyone saw that you had one on your hand, they wouldn’t touch you because, and I quote, “You will give me warts.” I think that’s probably true, because I’m pretty sure they’re contagious.
Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had flawed skin. I’ve suffered through warts, in-grown toenails, acne and worst of all, sweaty hands. My surface-level imperfections are not shy in hiding themselves, and they never have been.
But we all have our imperfections, and I’m convinced we’re all more aware of our own imperfections than of others. I always know what’s wrong with me, and what someone else may consider wrong with them, i’ve never even noticed.
Our minds are funny like that. Always focusing on our flaws and ‘what’s wrong with us.’ Trying to fix ourselves. Even trying to fix others. We are often drawn to the bad, rather than the good.
But imperfections, at least on the surface, make us who we are. They are unique to us and help us tell our story. They are things we overcome, and while they set us back from time to time, they also help us become the hero.
-Cliff
Cliff’s Note: Something must be overcome to become a hero in our story.