When I describe the perfect fellow I could hold. I think of one I already had. When I was a sophomore. I met a different sort of male child. One who was sweet. and warm and amusing: different. He was a puzzle piece that didn’t fit the remainder of the mystifier and merely right for me. Before him. I ever thought my first love was my first fellow. but no. this one was.
The first thing I noticed was his dark cocoa brown eyes. and I was hooked. He had soft. floppy brown hair. a level small mole above his oral cavity. and full soft lips. He was taller than me. sort of skinny. and truly cockamamie. We met at McDonald’s for a choir event. and we were playing with our nutrient while our friends thought we were being eldritch. Two months subsequently. he called me. and a whole new universe opened up. We didn’t acquire to see each other much because we couldn’t drive. but we talked every dark for hours and hours. We laughed at the same things ; he thought my klutziness was cunning. along with my inability to work simple machines. We were likewise in the manner we did facial and speech looks. I loved the manner his eyes crinkled when he laughed. how he’d raise one supercilium when I said something Wyrd ; he felt similar place in my bosom.
Our day of the months consisted of a Snowball Dance. a hoops game. dinner and a film. and watching The Breakfast Club at my house ; he watched me execute for Forensics. and we goofed off at a park. It wasn’t of all time much. but it meant the universe to me to pass clip with him. Six months felt like two hebdomads. and for those six months. I was the luckiest miss in the universe. He drew me images and wrote to me ; I spent a batch of my clip losing him. so I wrote him letters every twenty-four hours. Time flew by ; my sophomore twelvemonth had hardly started when we met. and it was about over. I was looking frontward to summer. and junior twelvemonth. with prom and other upper-classman activities. By the clip I settled into the relationship. and accepted that he wasn’t like the others. it was over.
It was when my whole new universe had ended. He broke my bosom. and he got off with it. It hurt as if person had carved out my interiors. For a long clip. I felt that there was something I had to state. to do things alteration. and travel back to the manner they were. In my eyes he was honest. loyal. compassionate. and respectful. But truly. he had bipolar upset of the bosom. I had ne’er one time thought that he truly wasn’t who I thought. I wanted to acquire him back but I realized he wasn’t worth it. How could person maintain a mask on for so long?
I eventually figured out that he wasn’t who I thought ; he wasn’t who I wanted him to be. I had forgotten that I had to pass so much clip converting him that he was the 1 I wanted. that I wouldn’t look at anyone else. It was selfish of him to ever inquire that of me. It was as if the more I spoke. the more I had to state. I realize now that this is non a perfect fellow. He doesn’t exist. Who needs flawlessness anyways? I don’t want anyone perfect ; how could I of all time live up to them? I want person existent. Perfection does non be: the beauty is in someone’s defects and I’d instead have defects. That’s what I’d describe the best individual for me…a crooked sort of perfect.