Love is Perfectly Beautiful

Posted: March 12, 2016 in Uncategorized

Love is Perfectly Beautiful.jpg

“Love is Perfectly Beautiful” (2/28/16)

Whenever someone would ask me why I’ve never had a boyfriend, my answer usually rests along the lines of, “I didn’t want to, I’ve no intentions of ever having one”; or “I’m still waiting for that right kind of guy.” Or perhaps the most grade-conscious kind of response, “I’ve no time for romance—studies first.”

And whenever a guy tries to make a move on me anywhere near that direction, I would always shun him away. Tell him I have my priorities, and romance isn’t one of them. Or sometimes when I feel like being mean, I would even say, “Hey dude, you don’t fit into my standards.” But the thing is, these answers are merely excuses. Well, yes, at surface level they may be reasons. But none of them is the deep-rooted cause.

The truth is, I see romantic relationships as something very much desirable, something everyone should consider as the best gift one could ever receive. You see, I esteem romance very, very highly. I think having a lifetime partner is the most beautiful thing that could ever happen to me—the only thing better than a night of star-gazing and high-powered binoculars at the rooftop with burger and pizza at hand.

And this is exactly why, I am afraid of it. Now perhaps you would wonder, how could someone be afraid of something so grand, so beautiful, so desirable? The truth is, I’m afraid of it because I know myself—I’m too flawed. I’m not the prettiest girl ever, not the smartest student, not the kindest person, not the best listener, nor the strongest woman. I’m not the ideal person to have a relationship with. I am, in fact, the very foil character of it. I am a little too impatient, a little too awkward. Too imperfect. Too flawed.

I often tell people that I have no desires for relationships, but the truth is, I perceive love as something so perfect—like a circle drawn with a compass, a line drawn with a fixed ruler. A dress made with all the exact measurements. A picture painted with all the rightful colors. Perfect. And I’m afraid of it simply because I know I am far from perfection. I’m afraid of it because I know that love is the king’s royal table, and I am a mere bondservant meant to serve them. That it is that VIP ticket to my favorite singer’s concert, and I am simply a beggar sweeping the streets. That it is that eat-all-you-can to Viking’s buffet, but I—I could only afford the fast-food 39ers.

I’m just… Not enough for it. I’m not pretty enough, not smart enough, not kind enough, not good enough. I think that love is that beautiful flickering of a flame that could give me the warmth, but I’m simply not fireproof. That it is a set of such wonderful diamond jewelry, and they’re simply not meant for me.

So perhaps next time, when you hear my answers on this topic again, perhaps you’d get to see past all the artificial superiority and see the real reason behind all the excuses. For me love is too perfectly beautiful, and I’m not.

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