Imperfection

All I can think about is the hows, whys and whats of things. How did I let myself go that far? When did it happen? Why does it feel so right? After pulling myself together for six years, tonight, I am an emotional wreck. There are some things in life you want so badly that there is no other alternative. No scratch that. There is always an alternative. Sometimes even a better one, but it would never make you feel the same way. It could make you feel better, it wouldn't make you feel the same. I am selfish. I want to feel the "same", the way I have always felt. The way she made me feel. Does it make any sense?

Alternatives are sometimes a more practical and economical option. I say economical because trust me Love costs you A LOT, more than anything could ever cost you. But alternatives are like eating a frozen yogurt instead of ice-cream. It is healthier but it will never satisfy your craving; it will never make you feel the SAME. Do you see where I am going with this?

Sometimes you meet someone and you know it is not going to be a perfect relation. Granted you share some similar attributes or some qualities you like in them which kick start the relationship but you know that there are people out there who would be more compatible with you. For some odd reason you still want to give it a try for the hell of it. Yeah, I gave it a try for the hell of it, and now I can't think about being with a perfectly compatible person that may or may not exist. Because that imperfect person is the One for me. I like the imperfection in us. I like the yelling and the screaming and the fact that I can be way too emotional and she can be way to logical at times. I like that she is very specific about her outlook where as I could care less about mine. I want her to yell at me for leaving the towel at the wrong place. I want to yell at her for not going to bed at a proper time.

I cannot believe I am admitting all of this. I, who always wanted everything perfect.
But I do. I have learned that happiness is not in perfection. It is in the screaming and the yelling. It is not in the perfect romantic evening but in an ordinary weekday night when you order stay alone because you are too lazy to do anything and have it straight out of the box because both of you are so in that sitcom you have your eyes glued to.


Happiness is not about having what you want but wanting what you have.
I have her. And I want her. Each and everyday.