Perfection?

Perfection?

I watch her walk towards me

Her blonde plait bobbing slightly

Not a hair out of place.

She smiles and stops

I notice an envelope in her hands

Her exam results no doubt,

With – I’d be willing to bet –

A+ marks

On each page.

“How are you?” she asks

In her butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth voice.

“I’m okay, just off to get my exam marks”

I feel my skin involuntarily bristling

The way it does every time she talks to me

And I try not to let myself be annoyed;

What is it about her?

“Oh, well, good luck!”

She smiles sweetly at me.

There’s an awkward pause

Like she’s expecting me to ask how she did.

I don’t think I can bear

Hearing about her coming top of the class

So I force a smile and mumble something

Before continuing hurriedly on my way.

As I walk

I notice my jaw is clenched

What is it about her?

I wonder

As a dark cloud

Seems to settle over me

And I stride more quickly

Head down, deep in thought.

Everything about her

I realize

Is perfect;

Her hair and make-up

Always immaculate

Never unsure of what to say

In any situation,

Pretty, confident, friendly, intelligent,

Plays the piano like Beethoven himself

And sings like a nightingale …

Lead cheerleader

And captain of the volleyball team;

I can’t remember a year

Where she hasn’t been prom queen …

I could go on.

Am I jealous?

I wonder.

Maybe I am.

But what’s wrong with that?

I’m not perfect

Infact, I’m anything but.

Does that make me a worse person?

Or simply

More interesting?

Perhaps I don’t even want to be perfect;

Perhaps perfect is too boring,

Too predictable?

So what if I get a C minus in biology

And a B in physics?

Who really cares

If I can’t dance to save myself

If my family is dysfunctional

And I spend all my savings

On clothes and coffee?

Well,

I’ve decided,

I don’t.