As if some days were just like any other. But this day seemed to be the most climaxed for her. Days without stress, days without any human soul compressing the utter mind of a teenage body. Days like these were the ones she lived upon. She was what you would call a perfect person in such a difference. Perfect in the fact that she was beautiful, without the make up and the clothes, beautifully contained and in such a way broken. Her personality was ecstatic. She was out-going, yet shy. She was cunning, but hesitant. She was artistic, but held in tight. She was anything and everything a man could ever ask for, but were most of them too blind to see the devil behind the most wanted? Or were they just too afraid to actually know the meaning to a true honest relationship other then what they see or don't see. You could say she was invisible, invisible to most people around her. But uncommonly dose she know she was more than vivid to there other half of society. Somehow, she was a picture more vivid than an intense visual image laid before one's eyes. She was perfect.
Perfect in our terms, is something we relate to as being a being with no flaws or mistakes. Nothing has come wrong to this figure. But what if, what was perfect was the largest mistake? What if being perfect was to have such flaws and doubtful characteristics? What if being perfect was to be just like her? She, is the object of any dream. She is the dream we want to live, she is the person we want to be. But she dosen't know herself, to even figure out the facts that cause the world around her to focus on such a magnificent artwork such as herself. Do you know what it's liked to be loved like her? Do you even know what it's like to feel the affection and the emotion? What she feels, expresses is what makes her so different. Does making you perfect, mean having not the feeling to love, but to only accpet? She's loved, loved by all. But what dose love mean? What dose she have that we don't , why can't we have what she has? Like every love story alive, evertything ends up for the best. If she's so perfect, then why not to her best? Maybe this is because love doesn't deal with the beholder, but with the ones who carry and cherish it.
So being what has been stated, is she perfect ?