no one can tell the difference

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I found this beautiful piece of writing only moments ago. A nice life reminder on a Tuesday evening.

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you were home to me

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I have wanted to put you into words since the first time we kissed. I have tried unsuccessfully numerous times. I am not even sure now, even after all this time passing that I can put you into letters arranged on a page. You seem to large, still too important to me, too full of life to be reduced to words.

How exactly does one put into words the softness of the place that runs from your thumb to your wrist. The skin that feels like silk, delicate, out of place on those strong hands.  I remember sitting with you on that rooftop bar, sitting there trying not to stare at your lips as you talked. Trying to give you my full attention when all I wanted to do was know the things only your lips could tell. That first time we kissed, all those months ago, that memory, lingered so strongly in the front of my mind but now, right now, being with you, in front of you. It was the way the light from the fire danced in your eyes as you spoke. Your rogueness, your irish boy charm, it flitted & lit up your eyes, opening up the window to your soul as you regaled stories to me. As you cracked open the knowledge of you for me to learn.

Looking back I think I had already fallen for you. Despite not seeing you for months before that night. Nobody has made me laugh as much as you did. No one has ever made me feel as safe as when I was near you. You even had the ability to make me feel safe, to feel wanted, even when I wasn’t near you. Our time together was limited, stolen moments that seemed to be spread out months in between. Regardless I fell for you. I fell for you with each message, with each telephone conversation, with each piece of you I unraveled in the awkward getting to know you exchanges of information.

Still to this day, well over a year since we saw each other, months since we have talked I think of you often. In the moments where my mind is still. I go to that memory of the roof top. The moments spent laying in your bed, my hair splayed on your chest. To the place where my head fit in the crook of your arm, my face moving with the gentle rise and fall of your breath in sync with mine. To your fingers drawing pictures on my back. To falling asleep wrapped up in your arms, knowing there was no safer place in the world for me to be. To staying cocooned like that for what seemed like eternity. To your room in your flat, to not wanting to leave, to you not wanting me to leave. I remember the smile that could not be wiped from my face for days afterwards. To the skip in my heartbeat every time you messaged me in the days to come. To the times when we would see each other again. Each encounter never feeling long enough.

Was it in these moments that I scared you? Was it in those skips of heartbeats that you knew the secret that I thought I held so tightly to my heart. Was it when I left you, that you realised that you felt the same way as me? Was it in those moments that you decided the only thing you could do was walk in the other direction? To just pass these moments off as bad timing?

I wish you had the strength to realise what an incredible thing you had stumbled across. The beautiful happen stance that you walked into that party of strangers and found me standing there. Even now when you haunt my dreams, I cannot help but hope that I am doing the same to you in that very moment. That the things I remember so vividly are not just shared by me. That if you could you would change the choices you made.

Whilst the times I think of you are getting further and further apart. As the images I have of you get less in focus in my memory. I cannot help but think you were absolutely the one that got away. The one that slipped through my fingers, the one whom I had no control of the circumstances of our meeting, of our future. If only you knew that I was not going to leave you, to hurt you, to break you like you had been previously. If only you had given me the chance to show you what real love could be like. One in which all of your insecurities, all of my insecurities are safe. That you were home. That I was home.

I hope you have found a home. I hope someone can be home for you. I hope you are happy. I hope you are making someone laugh so much their insides hurt. I hope now that I have put you into words that I can find my home. That someone can be home with me. Beannacht maith daor cuimhní.

ladies who lunch

life

There is nothing better than a mid-week catch up with two of your best friends. Some people like to ground themselves in the earth to re-centre themselves. Me… I like to see my best friends. They centre me, balance me out and without them doing anything in particular at all, they anchor my soul back to the person I should be. The best version of me.

loneliness : a human condition

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A couple nights ago I ventured down a familiar path, one in which millions of others have gone before me and I dare say twice as many are yet to commit the crime in the future. My crime in question….I stalked an old flames social media. Whether we like to admit it out loud or not we have all been there at some point in our lives. It is late at night, you are feeling vulnerable and before you know it you are on their page. Somehow you make it back months and months into their life, looking at what photos they have submitted. All the while making assumptions on how their life is going without you.

What I didn’t expect though was two things. Firstly just how good he looked. He looks really good. Incredible in fact. He looks fit, relaxed, toned, his arms, his chest look strong and manly. He looks happy. What hit me though was how much I missed those piercing eyes of his. They are the type of eyes that you can see into his soul. His eyes crinkle around the edges when he smiles. His kindness, wit and honesty shine out of them. His eyes reflect the type of human being he is. That smile… oh that smile…. do not even get me started on that smile.

The second thing….was the loneliness, the shakiness I have been left with, even days later. The shakiness is coming from the place in my soul that knows,  right this minute in my life I am not happy with my love life. Don’t get me wrong ….I have been single for 8 years. I know what loneliness is. I have made friends with loneliness. I may have even made peace with it. There are times though that it does not sit right with me. It feels like a weight is on my chest and doesn’t allow me to breath. Like I am trapped in a small room with no fresh air. I have always felt that even though I am completely surrounded by people, that I am all alone. That I am standing in a crowd yet no one notices me. This feeling gets all consuming at times. It engulfs me, swallows me whole. I know these feelings will pass. They always do. Just like the gaps between the friendly stalking gets longer and longer. So to does the unsettledness  of my loneliness. I read a beautiful quote recently from Albert Einstein.

” The woman that follows the crowd will usually go no further than the crowd. The woman who walks alone is likely to find herself in places no one has ever been before.”

So for now whilst my journey in this maddening crowd called life is one in which I walk alone. I know it will not always be this way. The best thing I can do is use this time to understand who I am, know what it is I want and not let anything less than extraordinary stand in my way.

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great expectations

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I have been neglecting this humble little blog of mine. Life seems to get in the way and before I know it, weeks have passed without me putting up a new post of images or writing a new entry. I think it is the writing that scares me the most. Is what I am saying even interesting?  Is anyone actually out there reading what I have to say?  I place such high expectations on myself that what I put out in the sphere that is the internet to be interesting or relevant or even readable. This blog is not the only place I put such hard sometimes unreachable expectations on myself though. Life in general hits me hard in the face when things don’t turn out they way I want them to.  I set the bar too high, aim just beyond my reach to only come crashing down with a loud thump when the universe sticks out her foot and I come tripping down back to earth. The beautiful thing with a blog though is that I am anonymous and can remain so as long as I need to. Apart from my dear friends who stop by from time to time. If anyone else were to stumble upon Imperfectly Perfect, they can only get to know me from the words I put into type or the images that move me. So I am going to make it my mission to allow whoever might be out there to get to know me a little better. Not a daily commitment, let’s just aim for weekly or twice weekly. Slow and steady wins the race. I hope you like getting to know me as much as I look forward to getting to know you… whoever you might be, wherever you might.

expectation

single white female

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Sometimes you come across a thought or a quote or a line from a book that speaks volumes to you. Just when you need it most. This next sentence & its timely introduction into my thought process was just what the doctor ordered.

“Some steps needs to be taken alone. It’s the only way to really figure out where you need to go & who you need to be.” Mandy Hale, Single Woman

Sage advice indeed.

here’s to the beginning

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I am finding the prospect of my first post to be rather daunting, how exactly do you begin to put in writing, let alone out into the unknown your thoughts, your dreams, your hopes, your fears. It is hard enough to confide in our loved ones yet alone to expose ourselves to a whole new audience. What exactly is my intent, do I want to heard by those who love me or do I just want the rather anonymous world of online to swallow me whole.

Maybe I should start with why I want to do this blog. It has always been a desire of mine to write something, do something meaningful with my thoughts. Recently I was part of a conversation with some of the beloved people in my life. Two of my friends,  A & M,  after too many espresso martinis turned the dinner conversation to predictions for 2013. The aim was to predict what the next year would hold for us & then the rest of the table would say their prediction for us.  In true style I did not take the task seriously however my prediction for myself was that 2013 was going to be a year of Plan B, Plan A hasn’t exactly turned out the way I had envisioned & when things are not moving in the direction you are so set forth on, perhaps it is time to change the direction ever so slightly, get out of your comfort zone. One of the other predictions for me, given so graciously & wisely by A was that I would write something. So here I am, its 2013, I have started this blog, taken the step, it may not be prose worthy of J.D Sallinger or could be likened to Haruki Murakami but my wish for this endeavour is for it to just manifest organically & see where it takes me.

As for Plan B, it has been upgraded. I am truly lucky to be part of a tribe of amazing people who you know & have in life but you do not quite fully comprehend just how important, nurturing & quite simply just how much they make your heart glow with joy, open your soul to the goodness & sunshine in life until you sit back embrace that life is all about making progress. It is never about perfection. It is about the journey, the constant struggling to find this immeasurable balance between perfection & happiness, as if the two are mutually exclusive.

Quite possible though, life may just be about being imperfectly perfect.