Fucking Perfect

Today I watched as Kelly admired his reflection.  He talked to himself, full of pride and giggles.  He danced, himself as his best partner.  He gave himself wet, wide mouthed kisses.  He adored what he saw reflected back at him.

To him, he is perfect.  Without flaws.  The most handsome, smartest, funniest guy ever.  He has no awareness yet of chromosomal abnormalities.  He knows nothing of epicanthic folds or flat nasal bridges.  He could care less about the thickness of his neck or the roundness of his face.  Microcephaly?  Whatevs.

Because all he saw in that mirror pure perfection.

I love that.  I pray some asshat doesn't come along, take one look at him, and whisper "retard" just loud enough that it brushes those smaller than usual ears.  I pray that he finds acceptance in a world that can be cruel and harsh to those who are tender and sweet.  I pray that he surrounds himself with people who admire him as much as he admires himself.  But mostly I pray that he always sees his perfectness.

He's fucking perfect to me.