She’s perfect by standards the world is too ordinary to define. Everything: top to bottom, past there to her shoes and right back up. She’s perfect. In fact, she’s not. She’s unreal. But, no! She’s real – and your friends can see her too. So, you brace. This is your catch. You’d share a drink and lots of laughs – but not a girl. Certainly, not this one!
You brace. You stutter at the feet and stagger at the lips – but you’re soon sailing towards perfection. Time waits for no man. True, but it waits for you. This time, you’re a god – and the laws of mere mortals are but echoes in the hills.
“Hi, Miss. My crew and me, we just won the world over. We was having a good time, then it turned perfect. We climbed the clouds and saw the stars in full glory. It was all perfect until you showed up. Your shoes, your skin, your knees, your walk, your eyes, that smile, they make a fool of the sun. Nothing in that old world appeals to me anymore; my tent is with you. And, if you have but eleven words left, let them be your number. Your heartbeat will be my command and I’ll call you ‘Teleios’. Look, it’s not me standing here; I’m blown away. Help me feel my feet.”
For the first time, she looks up at you. Nothing conceals such blushing. “I take it you’re not from around here. I cannot believe you’re actually speaking to me right now. Notice no one else has come close. I mean, do you know who I am? Haven’t you heard the stories?”
“Babe, the only story that matters now is the one you write with me. Even as a bottom-feeder, I never ate from the rumour-mills. So, talk to me and I’ll listen. It’s a better job than being president of a whole planet.”
And, like that, she starts. “That girl over there, the one in the purple dress? That’s my best friend. She’s a bit of a loner. In our world, like poles attract. Her name is Conn, daughter of Mr Struud. The other one, with the nerdy glasses? That’s the darling around these parts. She’s Dr Chief’s only daughter. Her innocence is like a giant magnet. Parents speak the world of her – but I don’t like her very much. And, if you knew what Conn and I know, you wouldn’t too. But well, we don’t complain anymore. They say there’s this man called ‘Fate’ that hugs us all while we sleep and dictates the future. I’ve been staying up all night just to catch him and ask why Conn and I get blamed for Ms Chief’s crimes – and why no one ever believes us!”
This is news to you. “So, you’re not perfect?”
She sighs. “No, I’m not. My father is Mr Shtood – and I’m his unmarried daughter, Onda.”
Now, it hits you like the uncivil guard did Karen. “Oh, you’re Ms Onda Shtood, best friend of Ms Conn Struud, hater of Ms Chief? They say it really sucks to be Ms Onda Shtood – but, hey, it doesn’t matter. I’m standing really close and I like what I see. Shall we?”
*Sighs deeply* It really sucks to be misunderstood. So many times, for reasons we never know, our best intentions end up being misjudged. But, what do we do? Quit and move over? Naa. It’s never a big enough reason to stop being us (provided we’re sure that’s the very best we can be)!
If you wanna share a personal experience about being misunderstood, the comments feature is open below. Thanks for the time.
BTW, I’m adding another page to this blog. There, I’ll post random videos of how “#@%##” my life often gets. Let’s call it ‘CiMeMa’. I hope it helps you know me better.