Perfectly Imperfect

there’s nothing wrong with a man who enjoys a good romance book. My dad always said the best way to learn what a woman wants is to pick up some of the smut they love to read so much. Written by a woman, it might as well be a road map to instant pleasure.

When I look in the mirror, I won’t see the things they will most likely say about me. I’ll see me, Willow Tate, the woman who isn’t perfect, but she is perfect in her imperfections.

No, let me finish. There isn’t beauty in perfection. It’s as fake as the image the word projects. Beauty is found in imperfection, Willow, because to admit you’re not perfect means you’re admitting you’re not whole and absolute. When I think of myself, I see someone willing to admit he’s as far from complete as it gets because, in order to get to that perfection, I need to find the other part of me who will make my life better. To take all the faults I have and fill them, and only then will I be there. You see, the way I see it, the only way to become perfect is to find that perfectly imperfect person who brings it out of you.

You know, if you spent more time reading those romance books, you would have figured this out before now.

I’m the imperfect to his perfect.

A person can be stronger than fear tries to trick them into believing.

It isn’t that I’m a weak person. I’m a product of self-destruction, or so my therapist tells me. I’m a battlefield of strength versus weakness and reality versus my own mind. I don’t look in the mirror and hate myself because I’m weak. No, I hate myself because even though my clothes and the scale tell me one thing, I can’t see it. It takes all the strength a person can muster to continue fighting his or her own self-image. Fighting to find their way back from the damage they’ve done to themselves physically and mentally.

We win. Our love wins. They can say what they want. Hate me, make me the villain, and do their worst to try to rip me apart. They only win if we let them, and that will never happen.

the only way to become perfect is to find that perfectly imperfect person who brings it out of you.

Hestitation is a dangerous thing. It hints that something is hiding when you take that pause.

Life isn't what others want for you, but what you want for yourself.

I’m not proud of it, but I celebrated karma’s brilliance in a drunken rage of laughter, facemasks, and nail polish. So

Those women hold nothing to you. They aren't the ones I want. You are. If I have to knock each and every one of those fears out of your mind, I'll gladly do it if it means you understand, without a shadow of doubt, that when I look at you, I fucking love what I see.

Didn’t anyone ever tell you that life starts at the end of your comfort zone? When you break free of the fears that have held you back, you’re going to be free to fly, and that, honey, is when you’re going to find the happiness you deserve. But you have to start somewhere. You have to push that fear aside and just wing it—trusting you will never be alone should you fall.

It’s time to take that leap and be what he believes is something achievable. Finally shed the weakness old Willow wore as a cloak of protection and allow my determination to be stronger and to be all the armor I need to protect myself.

You don’t see how beautiful you are because you’re too busy hiding to avoid more pain.

She has to be able to show others the hope they need is within themselves and that you are stronger than fear tries to trick you into believing.

Recognizing when you hit the ground of rock bottom and it turns into quicksand puts into perspective that you really don't have anything left to lose.

I want someone real. I need a challenge. I want to feel that connection to someone I've never been able to find. The one you read about. The one that makes you feel alive.

I allow my sobs to join the tears as I leave the only man who will ever hold my heart behind.

I was my own martyr. I stayed because, in a sense, I believed I deserved it.

I have the love of the greatest man and his family. But most of all, I have the love of my own self and each and every perfectly imperfect moment I’ve lived, loved, and won.

I’ve lived that life—where the bullies around you want nothing more than to watch you drown. It doesn’t take a physical person to be your shield, but you turning into someone new. Being reborn in a sense as someone stronger. What did he say? Thriving in the face of the fall. “In

I flap my arm out in the air but quickly drop it when I remember I’m wearing a tank top … the number one enemy of a chubby girl is the skin under her arms. I always feel like it’s just jiggling like crazy.

You’re better than this, Willow. You’ve come so far. Don’t let her take everything you’ve earned from you. You aren’t weak anymore. No one has that power over you but yourself.

This feeling of bone-deep contentment, the connection to someone that feels physical even without a tangible touch, that is what I’ve been missing.

The magnificence that we both see in each other will only intensify the beauty we see in ourselves. He

My dad always said the best way to learn what a woman wants is to pick up some of the smut they love to read so much. Written by a woman, it might as well be a road map to instant pleasure.