Is there such a thing as imperfections?

There is always this need to get somewhere and fix something.
Why is everything always broken?
Are things actually broken or is it just your interpretation of events that have been interpreted and then labeled by someone else.
What is actually wrong?
What does it mean to be wrong?
What is right and who decides what is right or wrong?
Are you missing everything by constantly bug-fixing, sorting things out, moving things from here to there in an attempt for more efficiency?
So you can one day say everything is now sorted, now I can live.
Will you even still be alive by then?
And even if your body is will your mind be?
See it all completely now and there will be nothing to fix.
At the very least maybe run your fingers across the imperfections of a surface and feel the reality of the moment.
What makes the thing, the thing, is it the label or the imperfections?
Which then leads to another question to go into, is there such a thing as imperfections?