Why We'll Never be Good Enough

Alessia grasped the crystal plaque with an instinctual fondness as she stood at the pulpit, the sound of congratulatory exclamations drowned out by her focus on the physical award.

When she looked up the anxiety surged through her once more at the realization that each expectant face in the sea below her was waiting for her to give a speech. She gulped, eyes immediately darting back down to the words etched in gold on the impeccable surface. For a moment she was sure the speech had fled her mind on account of nerves and had the impulse to walk down the glass steps and hand the award to someone else—someone who had a speech, someone more deserving.

But as she locked eyes with Peter, whose shiny grey eyes were fixed on her in pleased reassurance, she’d remember how he’d earlier told her, “Just look at me.”

“I’ll freeze.” She’d replied with an edge of panic. He’d shaken his head. “Remember what you told me before.”

Now faced with the prospect of freezing, she looked carefully and deeply into Peter’s eyes and took a deep breath. He smiled slowly. She gave him a tiny nod, then neared her pink mouth to the microphone. “I… was never sure if I could make it up here someday, even though it’s always been my dream that I could do something so noteworthy as to be deserving of this award,” she waved around the plaque and almost lost her grip on it. She stopped, closed her eyes and took another deep breath. Peter mouthed the words “You’ve got this” at her with a warm smile.

“…I am not the most deserving person for this award.” She said somberly. The room had fallen silent. “In fact, I would say that I’m nowhere near accomplished enough to be deserving of it. There are others I’ve known, others in this room even—who I deeply respect, and who in all honesty, I believe should be the ones holding this plaque and giving a much better and well-thought out speech. Carlyn,” the woman she gestured to had given her a smile of appreciation and shook her head.

Alessia licked her lips and began again.

“When I was only sixteen years old, I attended a writing conference where I was able to meet one of my favorite authors. Peter would call him my idol—Truman Capote.

“I was attending his session, and at this session, he entreated all of us aspiring young authors to participate in a little exercise. He asked us to think of how we would sum up our entire lives in one sentence. Some of us cheated and wrote two,” she chuckled, “but he encouraged us to stay within one. I can’t remember what mine was at the time and, I’ve since lost the notebook that had all my notes from the conference, but I think it was something along the lines of, ‘Struggling toward an unattainable ideal with immeasurable idealism.” The room was transfixed.

“…Or something to that effect.” Scattered laughter.

“Recently, I thought about that writing exercise and came up with a revised version of my original thoughts. ‘A million miles away, your signal in the distance, to whom it may concern.’ A bit more poetic, I guess. Somewhat metaphorical.

I’d like to talk to you a little about my interpretation of that sentence. You see, I think it means the same thing as what I wrote when I was sixteen, it’s just a bit more cryptic. The truth is, I will never be enough. No matter what I do, I can never attain the ideal that I’m always striving toward. None of us can. That’s what I’ve come to realize throughout the course of my life. But rather than being discouraged by that fact, I’m motivated by it. Our goals may seem like they are a million miles away. They give us a signal that seems like it’s so far in the distance, dangling their prizes to whom it may concern—to us, the dreamers in a way that’s almost taunting. The reality is that the moment we breach that distance—those million miles, there will be some other signal… a million miles away. But that’s okay.” Out of the corner of her eye, Peter seemed to be beaming.

“It’s clear to all of us that no one is perfect. So… it only stands to reason that we can never reach perfection. It’s like that song from ‘Man of la Mancha’, ‘to dream the impossible dream’.

“That is our vocation as people. Once I published one book, I wanted to publish another. Once I’d made it to #1 on the New York Times Bestseller list, I wanted a movie deal. After I got that, I hoped to be internationally renowned. But I’m not done yet. Because the signal remains a million miles away in the distance, and it always will. We will never be good enough. And that’s okay. Because if you’ll never be good enough, then you realize you don’t have to be. Everyone, no matter how accomplished or god-like in status and prestige is just human at the end of the day. So, reach for that unreachable star, and chase the signal in the distance. And remember that chasing it is what life is all about, not reaching it. Because you can’t. And I think that that’s ultimately a beautiful thing. The reason we continue striving to achieve perfection is precisely because we ultimately won’t make it, so stop beating yourself up because you haven’t made it. None of us will. And as sad as that may seem at times, it’s exactly what keeps me going in my darkest moments.”

The crowd stood in applause. She smiled, a reddish tinge in both cheeks, and award in hand, lifted up her silver dress and rushed into Peter’s arms. He kissed her triumphantly and said,

“But you’ll always be perfect to me.”

“And that’s all I need.” She replied, embracing him.