365 letters

Letter 59

dear landon,
you know, a think that has always been a want of mine is perfection. to not have bags under my eyes, to have the perfectly nice long flowing hair that looks stunning in every way possible. to be taller in order to not be looked down upon. to have curves in the right places instead and not have to have huge thighs that are impossible to hide when wearing shorts. to have those exaggerated shinning white teeth that whenever someone looks at them being smiled on they will fall under a spell. to have eyes that glowed in the nicest way possible. now, i'm not referring to eyes vampires have, if it is you believe in them, but the kind that will make one want to gaze into forever and never want to break the look. to have nice hands rather than these things which appear as if they were sausages instead.

but you, your not perfect either. but to me it appears as if your the perfectly sculpted created that was placed upon this thing we refer to as earth. it's as if you were rain rather than the sun while it's hot. or the air instead of water when your wet. everything about you contradicts the thing called a human. from the features castes upon you on the outside to the soul that pierces within you while your heart beat pumps within it.

trust me, you have bags under your eyes and it can possibly be due to that little sister of yours you nag about but everything indicates you'd cross a thousand oceans to fight the evil. your hair, well let's just say it looks as if there's a million spiderwebs in it that you've given up fighting for over years. you don't have the perfect model body with perfect abs and a carefully made jaw that every girl would die for. you're teeth aren't the whitest, nor at they the best since let's be honest, braces help but don't work magic for every single detail. your eyes aren't blue nor green but rather ordinary with the simple color of brown. and your hands, well they're hands aren't they?

yet, under those eye bags the stress and decrease. those eyes that make me feel like such a cliche making me turn into melted chocolate all over. with that spider-web you call hair it's clear how busy you are in the mornings and how you run to school to be on time. yet, still i dream for the day where i play with it as it softly runs throughout my fingers providing me comfort. with your perfectly shaped body i see you try to work out yet haven't fully gotten a dream body. yet when we hug or cuddle the warmth and safety you provided me makes me never want to let go, ever. your teeth aren't perfect just like a portion of the world population yet, they provide you a smile. a smile that once again, makes me into the most cliché person ever makes me melt providing butterflies of happiness within me. your eyes, there the most simplest eyes that i have ever seen that can still make me smile instantly when they're in contact with mine. and if you haven't already known, the moment that you touch me the sparks and fireworks ignite exploding casually as if it was the most sane thing in the world. it takes me into the world of disneyland when in reality i'm no where near there.

-clare