Flawed.

I look at my face each morning and see the haphazard freckles scattering around my nose, spreading towards the poles of my cheeks. I can see tints of darkened skin on my forehead, from gazing for too long in the sun, extending my exposure, to induce a little bit more warmth to my body. I have also noticed the veins underneath the fine skin below my eyes becoming more prominent, gaining more blueness as the colour escapes my complexion in the winter months.

I’m flawed, dearest.

I keep counting those imperfections, acknowledging them, so that I can tell you about their secrets when the time comes. I’m proud of each one of them, because they are not my signs of weakness, but strengths and omens of empowerment. I treasure the cracks in my skin, the faintness of my voice, the thinness of my hair. I’m a collection made by God, and I seek beauty no matter where it is, even if it is within me.

Sometimes I forget all about who I am and watch the world parade in the vastness in my spirit; I believe in the wonder, miracles and dreams. I believe in mistakes, excitement in momentum while we all try to resolve them, and come across as new, whole with a tireless smile.

I’m flawed, and you shall recognise it when I sit next to you, unable to utter a word, enclosed in my silence. There I combat mountainous waves of oceans hitting the shore, get tangled with earthquakes of heartbeats, lost and perished like lava of an erupt volcano. And I shall keep it all inside, fearing expression in terms of words, comfortable within their emotional form, letting them shape the currents of electricity flowing in oscillations of energies I cannot visualise.

I’m flawed because I will make mistakes, abstain from crude judgement and find shelter within guilt, shame and victimisation. However, I will soon allow the shell to crack, and smile fearlessly knowing that I’ll be ready to move on.

I’m flawed because I always want to be better. I always want to conquer fears. I want only hope, love and positive change to prosper and make their way to my reality. However I often realise it’s not possible, not when I reach out for others, to take their hands and lift them up from the rubble. Because I’m reaching out for the best all the time, failing to realise that there’s is perhaps completion in all of those broken hearts out there, the lost souls and unsupported visions.

And I’m here to fill the gaps, I think— the gaps that my heart is so set on analysing to find ways to take the emptiness away. Perhaps I’m able to do that through my existence. Perhaps others are able to detect my own gaps and work on them too, but I just need to attract them with my self-acceptance and lack of resistance, because who would be able to detect them freely when there is so much tension within the circumference; always judging, worrying and complaining?

So here I am world, I am flawed. You can fix me whenever you want, and I’m ready to accept the help. Also, I’m looking forward to discover the many other gaps I haven’t yet located.. and I shall take my time loving them dearly.

Thank you for the lesson, dear universe.