How naive it must be to put your heart in another’s hands and never expect it to be dropped. As if the hands of another have a different set of functions beyond the mishaps and the occasional let downs. Why hold a person to standards that you can not control yourself because even in your hands, you will drop your heart more times than you would ever admit. You would learn to carry things most elegantly and cautiously, yet now and again, your fingers will remind you that sometimes they like to play, and they need some space too.
So, what is this fear of imperfection we all harness and hold on to for dear life? Is it just the reality that we refuse to face the truth? Or is it the unjust expectations we hold ourselves and the people around us to? As if the best stories are not the ones we brought back from all the misadventures and the nights we were sure were our lasts. By its true nature, our imperfections are the best and worst parts of the being; they are the parts that teach us and make us realize there is another path worth taking. So why do we have a hard time forgiving the parts of ourselves that sometimes feel weak and unable to hold on tight? How funny is it that the truth of living and loving sometimes has nothing to do with facts, and we pretend like loyalty is the greatest betrayal known to man? As if we are not all broken people hoping that our mistakes are not beyond forgiveness. As if our own choices and fears do not always betray us.
If we played a game of perfection, where human frailty was never accounted for, maybe the world would be a better place; or perhaps the world would be a space with lost souls unsure of the value of life; I wonder how much different it would be from what we are already. I think part of the beauty of living is all the imperfections that make the journey colourful, the many times you drop your heart and mend it back. Frankly, I do not think a world without scars will be worth living. So maybe let us face the fact that all things are not and will never be perfect and find the beauty in imperfection. Because the greatest betrayal in this world is not in the person who dropped your heart, it is the lie that imperfection is not beautiful.
