Perfectly Imperfect

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Perfection.

Blindly following what other people preordained as beautiful, awesome, if not, perfect. We live our lives unhappy because the perfection we seek is not there. Our mind tells us that the only way to be happy in this temporary life is to seek in what we desire over what we do not have. We then begin to reprioritize things in the wrong order, disregarding what matters to us the most and concentrate on what matters to us the least.

 Haters.

Those are what we call them. They hate on us. They look at us and think we’re perfect but were far from it. We just try a little harder than they do. Just a once more of effort. But that effort is for not. These haters bring us down. They say we’re not perfect. That in fact we’re the opposite; imperfect. We forget to realize that no one is perfect. Perfection doesn’t exist because everyone is already perfectly imperfect.

Perfection.

. . .

I awoke later on around 11:00, pissed that Ryder didn’t wake me up for an extra work out before class. Grabbing a pair of white skinny jeans and a black crop, I hastily took a shower and got ready. As I was slipping on my black Toms, Ryder texted me.

Hey. Sorry I didn’t wake you. You look liked you needed that nap. –Ryder

I didn’t even bother replying to him. I just grabbed my keys off of my desk and left for class.

Ten minutes later I had arrived to class 45 minutes late. The professor looked up me at but just nodded her head. This was a normal occurrence. She probably didn’t care because I have the highest grade in the class. I walked over to ragged old desk next to where Luke and Kane sat.

Kane whispered to me, “What happened Bri? Overslept?” as Luke started laughing. I couldn’t believe these guys. They had planned it. Gosh, they were so frustrating. Don’t they understand I need to be perfect this season? I have to beat Danielle Sims, I just have too.

            Danielle wasn’t just any girl that didn’t gymnastics. She was gymnastics perfection; the next Nastia Liukin or Shawn Johnson if you will. No one ever beat her. Every competition she goes to she’s just flawless, the definition of perfection. Don’t believe me? Look it up, you’ll see her picture right there. She haunted my dreams, my reality, and my life. This was the first person I’ve met that has out perfected me in something. The worst part was—

            “Bri!”

            “Gabrielle Nyla Marie Johnson!”

            “Yes?” I answered, unsure of what was going on.

            “Uh oh, I know that look,” Ryder said. “You were thinking about Sims again weren’t you?”

            “Yes I was.” I replied, “She just haunts me. I can’t figure her out and I can’t beat her. Every gymnastics meet we go to she’s there taunting me. I can’t win against her.”

“Bri calm down. This year you promised you wouldn’t succumb to her every whim. You’re going to beat her. You’re going to win championships this year. No matter what.”

*Flashback*

I glared at her, and stood up straight, trying to reach a taller height than I already was. I clenched my fists getting angrier by the minute. Danielle Sims was a good 4 four inches taller than me, skinny but muscular and unnaturally tan. She had chocolate brown eyes, and perfectly curled brown hair that went all the way down her back.

Everyone loved her. She was the favorite out of everybody; the chosen one. She was expected to go to the Olympics, and win gold. She was the popular gymnast that everyone adored, but her real personality could kill all of that.

I was the only person, as Ryder kept telling me that could beat Danielle. I was the one who would and could, break her perfect winning streak. Danielle also noticed this, and ever since I had started here at UCLA, we became enemies just by hearing each other’s records.

“Bri, it’s always nice to see you,” she said, sarcastically.

“Likewise, but you and I both know, nice is not something you can actually attain.” I retorted. “This may be hard to process but, but no everyone is liked or respected because people are cared of them.”

“Inexperienced, you are,” she replied rudely. I sighed in disgust, and she went on. “All this extra workouts I hear you putting in are not going to help you beat me.”

I laughed at her. Inexperienced? I had more experience of life than she will ever have, but I better not say it to her face.

“Danielle, don’t forget I’m the one who has to work hard for everything. As things may come naturally and just be hand over to the palm of your hand, others work hard for it and are actually grateful for the results that come in.”

She was wordless, trying to speak a few times, but nothing was coming out.

“Gabrielle, don’t forget I know your secret. How would you like if the CIA found out were you were? I’d keep your mouth shut, if I were you.” She replied.

*End Flashback*

I remembered that conversation clear as day, and that was why I threw the competition, letting her win. I caused UCLA to lose championships for the first time in the past 5 years. Ryder had made me promise that this year I wouldn’t let her get to me and that I would win. 

I had made a promise to myself too.

 I swore that as soon as sophomore year started, I'd throw myself into my gymnastics and training, and I wouldn't stop until I was the best, perfect even.

 Nothing else was even a possibility anymore, I told myself.

Honestly, if I didn't beat Danielle this year and win championships, how could UCLA keep me here?

. . .

Eventually, I got back to my dorm, and I was pleasantly surprised to find Ryder, making Macaroni and Cheese with Leah in tow. I walked over and gave them both a hug, glad to have my friends near.

After a while, Ryder finished cooking, and set everything on the table in the common area.

All of us sat down to eat, and talk about the upcoming weeks before competition season began. I sat there picking at my food, not really hungry, just thinking about the extra workouts I could fit in my schedule.  

During the month, l into a sort of old pattern. I would go the gymnasium early, getting in an extra conditioning session, as well as run 2 miles afterwards. I didn’t eat either. I knew I should but I felt the more I ate, the more I wouldn’t gain any muscles or stamina.

It wasn’t the first time I had done this to myself, but this time was necessary. UCLA was going to see a new and improved Gabrielle Johnson. 

. . .

AN: to the side is Ryder

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