Very contradicting, is it not? The thought of perfect imperfections. How could two completely opposite things that strictly contradict each other be peas of the same pod?
Wasn't mom an oxymoron? She never really had a job but raising children are more than a job. Spent the entire morning preparing our tiny palace for a day full of unexpected activity. She made the bed and also cooked the biggest meals.
Every single thing she did was a form of love that could not be described. Everything she did was for the family. That was her motivation. But she never really paid attention to her children as much as she did to the things she did for them.
One broken lipstick and hell would break loose. Wear one skirt too short and you'd get grounded for a week. Sometimes she'd tagteam with dad to find the harshest words. But she did all of that so that I'd grow up to be better than I could imagine. Cruel kindness.
"All of me" reminds me of mom more than anyone else. Do you think it is weird? It is a love song meant for lovers. But I do love my mom, just not romantically. And she is the perfect face for an oxymoron.
I grew up to live like the phrase "perfect imperfections". I strived to be perfect for a very long time. It got tiring very quick. Everybody has a different set of expectations which also meant that they had very different ideas of "perfect".
I was left stranded debating on which set of people meant more to me. I could not decide who would I want to impress more. I would never be able to portray so many different versions of myself to the world. I was forced to choose one set of expectations and strive to be perfect at them.
It was life's cruel kindness. Stick me in a corner with my back against the wall. It was a harsh lesson. But I learned it well. I realized that I was not a dart to be thrown of a board of "perfect" and "imperfect". I was the dartboard itself.
I am someone made up of all my mistakes, success, defeat and victories. I am both low and high. I am both the black and the white. All my imperfections that won't be accepted in this part of the world will be accepted in another.
My imperfections have made me who I am. I am perfect in that way. Just like the drops that make an ocean. Every drop is different but they all combine to make the ocean. Just like mom was imperfect to me as a child but perfect to me as an adult. I am too imperfect, but perfect.
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