The Burden of Perfection

As the embodiment of winter, I’m often expected to be perfect. I mean, what’s more beautiful than a pristine snow-covered landscape, or a delicate frost on a windowpane? It’s a burden I gladly bear, but it can be overwhelming at times. People expect me to be flawless, and I strive to meet those expectations, not just for myself, but for the beauty of winter itself. It’s a standard I set for myself, and one that I know is impossible to maintain, but I try anyway. After all, what’s the point of being the personification of winter if I’m not perfect?

I remember when I first started, centuries ago, I was young and full of energy. I’d dance in the snow, and watch as the world transformed into a winter wonderland. But as the years went by, I began to realize the weight of my responsibility. I’m not just a symbol of winter, I am winter. And with that comes the pressure to be perfect. I’ve seen civilizations rise and fall, and I’ve been there through it all. And with each passing year, the expectation to be perfect only grows. It’s a never-ending cycle, and one that I’m not sure I can keep up with forever.

But it’s not just about me, it’s about the people who come to enjoy the beauty of winter. They deserve to see the most beautiful winter possible, and that’s what drives me to be the best version of myself. I take pride in knowing that my efforts bring joy to those who experience the winter I create. And that’s what makes it all worth it. The burden of perfection may be heavy, but it’s a weight I’m willing to carry, for the sake of the beauty of winter, and for the people who get to enjoy it.