Past The Mistakes

11 | sickly sweet

IT'S UNFAIR to expect someone to be perfect.

Perfect is an impossible and subjective concept with a definition that varies from person to person. It's unfair to expect someone to be your definition of perfect.

A perfect person is a 2D, non-existing person. Basically, they are a fabrication of your own desires and wants.

Vulnerabilities paint a person's eyes and they see the world through their own subjective lens. It's unjust to judge someone by their fears, wishes, goals, secrets and decisions when they don't even affect you.

I think about this a lot.

Rather than wishing for a perfect person who would be "perfect" for me, void of any vulnerabilities, incapable of mistake; I wanted someone who understood themselves. 

Someone who worked hard to strive for better, someone who would spend their lives trying to work towards their version of perfect. Someone who would accept me along with my flaws, fears, goals and motivations.

I wanted someone who was my kind of imperfect.

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"Pancake?" My grandfather offers as I begrudgingly stumbled over to the kitchen still in my pyjamas. I yawn loudly not caring about how horrible I probably looked. I could imagine my wild brown hair looking like a nest on top of my head along with my face looking very dry and flaky.

My mouth watered at my grandfather's suggestion and the smell wafting under my nose. My eyes widened as I saw the knowing smirk on his face.

"Oh, yes please," I sang, the sleep rushing out of me as I eyed the plate of delicious-looking pancake he had outstretched in my direction.

"You and your pancakes," My grandfather chuckled as I snatched the plate and walked over to the dining table. "You, your pancakes and pasta," he corrected as he then thought about my addiction to pasta as well. I nodded at him, satisfied with his list.

"Pancakes for breakfast and pasta for lunch and dinner," I tell him making him laugh. I smile before shoving a forkful in my mouth. I noticed how he only made 2 pancakes which was how much he usually made for me. I looked at him with furrowed brows.

"Did you eat already or...?" I say before running a hand through my wild hair, releasing my hairband that was holding the nest of brown locks on top of my head. As I took out the hair tie my hair fell, cascading past my shoulders to my waist. 

"I ate right when I came back because I got my blood drawn for my blood test done at 6," he tells me before looking at me cautiously. "Anyways...I hope you aren't going to Marie's house looking like that."

I looked at him with wide, confused eyes making his eyes flash with understanding.

"Oh, right I didn't tell you! Marie wanted you to come over so that you can help with her garden since I can't help today or tomorrow because of my blood test. It's going to leave my arm feeling weak for a while," my grandfather explains making me lick my lips nervously. "Gloria might come over in the evening after her work. Bring your laptop with you so you can do your online schooling over there."

I chew my food slowly, feeling the anxiety build inside me.

"Can you drop me off?" I asked him, hoping that he would say yes so I didn't have to walk there on my own.

When he sensed my nervousness, it was like a lightbulb went off in his head causing him to be gentle with me.

"People are forgetting, but if you want I can still drop you off, Layla." He tells me looking deep into my brown eyes to make sure I saw his sincerity. I nodded at him.