The Perfect Human Being

Having more money or a beautiful house. Or a luxury life. What do you think what is real huminty?

There was once a human seen as the best example of a perfect person. He was amazing in every way, and everyone thought they should try to be like him.

His body looked like it was made from stone, his face was perfectly balanced, and his curly hair fell nicely from his perfect head. His golden skin showed great health and strength.

His mind was very sharp, his thoughts new and very interesting. He was smarter and more creative than even the best thinkers and artists. No problem was too hard for his open but logical, calm but focused mind.

Everyone loved his personality. He was likable but never tricky, always nice yet able to stand up for himself and others. Kind but strong, sure of himself yet always finding the best answer for everyone. His words flowed smoothly like water in a stream.

Of course, this perfect human lived a dream life—great partner, good job, lots of money, nice home, many friends. Though no one really hated him, some people were jealous of his perfect life.

What most fans didn't see was his daily routine.

To keep his strong muscles, he lifted weights and ran every day, eating only certain foods. For his perfect face, he used many skin creams. For his perfect curls, he used special hair products and washed his hair in careful circles timed exactly right.

To keep his mind sharp, he sat quietly for hours daily and read many books. He wrote, painted, and made art between his long work days, playing chess whenever he had a free minute.

To seem so likable, he practiced his talks, planned his conversations, learned jokes by heart, and kept his feelings under control. Every day he practiced his voice and how his face looked when talking.

While everyone only saw how great he seemed, the perfect human carried all the hard work inside. He looked perfect outside but felt far from perfect inside. Though he made it look easy, it took huge effort.

He was always full of fears and worries. What if he got lazy and people saw he was faking? What if his perfection started to fade? What if he couldn't keep up with what everyone expected?

Never relaxed, never at peace, never feeling real—always using all his energy to act like the perfect person. His life was really sad. Very tired, all he wanted was rest, a break from being perfect, maybe forever.

One worried evening, he walked past buildings and coffee shops, looking at his reflection with hate in every window. He wondered how he could keep living this way. What's the point of just pretending all the time? He would give up all his perfection for peace of mind, freedom from himself. He pushed himself harder than anyone else could.

Wondering how to escape his pain, he saw an old man sitting on a park bench. The man looked poor—old dirty clothes, messy hair and beard, like someone who didn't care what others thought.

But when the perfect human looked at the old man's face, he was amazed. He had never seen someone look so calm, peaceful, and unbothered. The old man seemed strong inside, like problems just rolled off him like rain off an umbrella. Though clearly old, he seemed young at heart, full of life and fun.

Even with all his perfection, he was scared to talk to the old man, feeling this man would see through his act and show how empty he felt inside. Yet he felt pulled toward him, like a magnet.

He sat down next to the old man, who didn't even notice him—strange for someone who usually got all the attention. This made him even more nervous.

After what felt like forever of silence, the old man turned with a gentle voice: "What's wrong, young man? You seem upset."

For the first time ever, the perfect human couldn't speak. Such a simple question and he had no answer. Was his inner struggle so obvious? Realizing he was still trying to act perfect, he stopped thinking so much and spoke honestly:

"My whole life I've been playing a role. Though it looked perfect, it took everything from me. I don't know how to go on. I'm tired, scared, angry, confused. Nothing makes sense and I just want to stop."

"I see," the old man said, "but isn't trying the wrong way just part of life?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we all want something and think we know how to get it. So we chase it and keep hitting our heads against walls, hoping to break through. But heads usually break easier than walls."

After thinking about this, the perfect human said sadly: "I understand. I feel like my head's about to break, or maybe it already has. But you seem like you found something. I want what you have."

The old man closed his eyes, thinking. "I don't have anything. I've probably been the most foolish, hitting my head against many walls. Maybe all this head-hitting made me a bit crazy," he smiled. "But hasn't this struggle brought you here—where you're finally looking at yourself honestly? Maybe hitting your head isn't about breaking walls but breaking your head. Maybe that's needed to turn the right way."

These words touched him deeply and tears ran down the perfect man's face, like the old man's words broke open something inside him.

After he stopped crying, he asked: "But what now? I feel lost with no direction."

"Don't worry, you've always been lost, you just acted like you weren't. You've spent your whole life rushing, so why not slow down? Not having answers is how you find answers. Stay with not knowing and just focus on the next step. You'll figure it out."

The old man stood up, smiled, and said goodbye. Before walking away into the dark, he turned: "Sorry if my answers weren't clear. Giving life advice was never my thing."

The perfect human sat thinking about the old man's words.

A truly perfect human being.