J.M. Barrie: You want to shatter those dreams by saying he’s just a dog? What a horrible candle-snuffing word. That’s like saying, “He can’t climb that mountain, he’s just a man”, or “That’s not a diamond, it’s just a rock.” Just.
This thing where we say “I love you,” It’s not about who says it best, or who says it most. It’s about saying it, meaning it. It’s about three words that collide That make the world go round And make your heart feel like A rising tide, a waking volcano.
It’s about drowning, And it’s about breathing. It’s about losing it all, And winning back some. It’s about soaring, As you’re falling. It’s about stripping your soul naked, And having it strut for the judges. It’s about letting go, And holding on. It’s about complications, And about affliction. It’s about jumping forward, When you’re falling backward. It’s about jealousy, And about empathy. It’s about all things good, And most things bad.
We used to stand in the corner at clubs and watch their perfect bodies connect in emotionless and superficial ways. We’d say that they did not stand a chance next to us. We’d pretend that we were perfect in our imperfection for a second.
Society has a way of slapping us in the face with every limb that is not up to standards. I liked you in a non-superficial way and you liked me in any possible way.
I was not Adonis and you were not Aphrodite, no one ever asked us to be. Perfect was never our goal. Perfect did not do us any favours.
“Am I pretty?” “To me, you are.”
“Am I handsome?” “To me, you are.”
You have gone, imperfection does not cut it anymore.