“Hintay ka lang, it will come in the right time!!”

This entry is going to be short, but the whole concept of perfection has been bugging me for a long time already.

I get really annoyed at people who wait for everything to happen at the "perfect" time. --- “Hintay ka lang, it will come in the right time!!” --- I mean, to an extent that's fine, but when you start delaying everything indefinitely just waiting for this mythical time of perfectness, you miss out on a whole lot of stuff that you could have had in the meantime.

Life is going on while you wait for your little "perfect" time, it's not going to stop for you to lollygag your "perfect" little way along your "perfect" little road waiting for your "perfect" little moments to smack you upside the face.

There comes a point where life's going to say "The hell with it" and move on.

There's always going to be a more perfect time for something to happen. You have to accept that as a given and work with what the world hands your way. It may not be "perfect", but isn't something slightly less than perfect better than nothing at all?

Why do things need to start "perfect", anyway? Why can't they build to "perfect"? What happens if you get to that "perfect" moment and the newness of it causes something to happen which spoils the "perfect"ness of it? You just had your one "perfect" moment, and you blew it.

Now what?

Perfect is what you make it.

Perfect doesn't come to you, you must find it.

A Few Fries Short of A Happy Meal

So, I'm on this road again. I am walking alone. I have nowhere to go. No safe base to call home.

As I walk and walk, I fall.

I reach up and someone grabs my hand, and helps me stand tall. He tells me all sorts of sweet things. He says that he'll always be there. He leads me into a false sense of security.

Then leaves as if he never cared.

Now, I am left standing on the same road. The sun is blocked by the trees. I cry for my lost love, then fall to my knees.

As I am sobbing out loud and wiping my tears, along comes a young man. He promises me years. I walk with this one. I can see the sun once more. I am so happy, not sad. I love him to the core. As we walk and talk and kiss, and hug (like young lovers do), in bounce to people.

Their faces are not new. The first one is my lost love. He is returning to have me as his prize. I belong to nobody but him. Well, at least in his eyes.

The second one is my current love, a friend, who is the carrier of bad news. He seems to want to tell me that my love is the one I will now lose. He tells me nothing but the truth. He doesn't want to break my heart, but he tells me that the sun isn't always going to shine, and me and my love will soon part.

My first love is also telling me that me and my second love were never meant to be.

So, now I am stuck on this road again, all alone and I cry.

Why do people fall in love?

When all that love does is die?