What’s the balance between aiming for perfection and aiming realistically?
What’s the balance between pushing for something you really want and knowing that your choices may just be plain trash and you need to let go?
What’s the balance between loving someone and just caring really really much?
I wish I knew the answer to these questions amongst many others I ask myself daily. To be honest, I’m not even sure these questions make sense to any other person except me.
I used to think I had no idea of what I wanted but maybe I was wrong.
Maybe I know what I want, maybe I want perfect.
But How perfect is perfect?
Isn’t perfect just an illusion?
Isn’t perfect the cheesy smile you put on when your tears are dried up?
Isn’t perfect scribbling 46 pieces of love notes on perfectly squared tiny post-it notes whilst seating next to the lost love of your life?
Isn’t perfect walking 800m at 10pm with someone thinking about how you’re willing to risk it all?
I thought so.
None of these define perfect. I guess that’s because nothing is really perfect.
Seating side by side on a pretty table laughing at absolutely nothing I can remember right now,
Enjoying the salty tear soaked kiss of my lover after long intense conversations,
Long mid-night phone calls talking about absolutely nothing I can remember right now,
Lunch dates that I would always look forward to, just to seat beside you sharing laughter from jokes I remember absolutely nothing about,
Screaming how much I love you in my gut while managing to mutter the words “love” in reality,
Actually loving you with all my might but not having the strength to go on because I’m afraid of failure so, why would I even try?
I thought so.
None of these define perfect? I guess that’s because nothing is really perfect.