It's the imperfections that make us perfect

It's the imperfections that make us perfect to another person. The way that someone might keep using the same grammar incorrectly or the way they may not understand everything. These things make another person more dear to us than a perfect person could ever be. The way they don't like their nose that makes you love it even more, the way that they sometimes break the mood that makes a situation personal, rather than some generic story in a book. The way people don't live up to expectations, but rather take off in a different direction that turns out to be even more gratifying than the original 'perfect' one. Or even habits that differ from ours, and even change our lifestyles. If people were perfect we would all be boring shells, each person the same, and nothing different. Life would become a sequence that we know all too well, like reading a book over and over again. There would be no surprises, and there would be nothing to separate those we love from those we hate. Everyone would just be part of a giant monotony. This is why we are human, this is why we are imperfect. This imperfection makes us perfect.

The Past

Sometimes I am afraid to look into people's pasts for fear of finding something I won't like. I guess it might be a little irrational, because after all, how can we know someone without knowing their past, but at other times, I like the way I know and understand some people and am afraid that will change if I know their past.

Maybe this fear is born out of the fact that the past I don't know about is a past without me in it, and maybe I am afraid of what I have no influence over and no responsibility for. Maybe it is because I know my own past and what has happened in my own past that I fear the pasts of others. Or maybe it is all born out of an overactive imagination that I can't put away, and sometimes have a hard time distinguishing from what actually happens. Sometimes I even imagine thoughts, of my own and of others, that never happened or arn't true, but then I am afraid they will become true, even for an instant.