We all like to pretend our lives our ideal; that our families are perfect, that our friends will love us endlessly, that we, ourselves, cannot be broken down at any point in time.
But I believe that real happiness only comes with being real. Not pessimistic, just real.
You’re not perfect. I’m not perfect. You’ll probably eff up an expectation of mine. I am not who you think I am. I’ll make mistakes, you’ll make yours. We won’t always see eye to eye, vibe, or be on the same wavelength. At the end of the day, I can’t REALLY change your mind, but I look at myself… And you can’t change mine either. I have to remember and am rudely awakened by the fact that you have flaws; but more importantly, that I have just as many as you do.
Let’s get messy and love wholeheartedly anyway. What more is there to do? Or what better is there to do?
