There are some people in the world convinced perfection only exists on a silver screen. And right now, I want to grab those people, one at a time, and take them here, so they can see simple flawlessness themselves and believe it. Right now, I have found a small corner of the world untouched by city lights and broken dreams. Right now, I am looking at something truly perfect.

Tall emerald grass brushes against my bare legs, the long blades lazily moving with the warm breeze. It has been sticky-hot all day and miserable, but out here, it’s the kind of temperature you barely notice: not too hot, not too cold. The same breeze that rustled the grass moves the pine trees and my hair. Pine needles and crickets work together to make a sweet symphony daylight never gets to hear. No cars destroy the melody, since it’s so late. When I look up, the stars, undiluted and away from the lights that always ruin my view, look like bright, sparkly glitter thrown carelessly, flawlessly on thick, smooth black satin. If I were to inhale deeply, I’d smell pine and grass and green, lush plant life, the true scent of summer. Someone else might not notice the evening’s beauty in this plain field, but to me, it’s almost intoxicating. Tonight is completely ordinary, yet completely magical. All of the people who don’t believe in perfection need to visit here. The only thing that would make it more perfect is if I was with you.

That simple thought is like a grenade lobbed into my field with the pretty stars and the peaceful wind and the perfection. It all breaks, shatters, like a piece of glass thrown to the floor, and the shards are just as painful. It is horribly hot and the grass is itchy and it’s too loud out here. But the worst part isn’t the stifling environment. Its that I’m utterly, heartbreakingly, bitterly alone. It’s the type of awful loneliness the type that seeps into your bones and threatens to crush you. This isn’t a cliché movie where I don’t care about being by myself, something created to soothe hurting teenage girls. Not only do I care, but I care so much that I want to fall to the ground and stay there, because this loneliness hurts bad enough when it is not your fault. When you yourself are the reason no one is around, though, it can kill you. I am the only one to blame for the lack of company tonight. This is self-imposed isolation. I have pushed everyone away, and now I am all by myself and I want to take a knife to the chest for it.

Except I have not pushed everyone away; I have pushed away the only one who matters. You. I have finally ruined everything and lost you for good. The only thing I want to do is apologize, apologize, apologize, until you understand that I have never meant anything more, except for the time I told you I loved you. In all my stubbornness, all my difficulty and harsh words and general hurtful manner, I have made the one person who I always wanted to stay… leave. I ended up hurting the one I ever really loved the worst. If I were to apologize now, I know you would not listen like you always did before. This time, you would not forgive me, but instead laugh in my face and walk away, like I did to you so many times. But I always came back, and I’m terrified you never will and all the blame in the world for this rests squarely on my shoulders. I love you and right now, I need you, but I also lost you, and there is nothing I can do about that now. And this, the ruination of my peace and the shattering of my heart, is the price I pay.


This scene is no longer perfect. I doubt it ever truly was. But I still believe in perfection, in flawlessness, in impeccable, paradisiacal things. I have dealt with something all these words describe and more. And I lost it the day I told you I never wanted to see you again. I lost perfection the second I lost you.

I turn, and walk away.