I’ve been so focused on the idea of perfection, and it hit me. Perfection is boring. Real life is exciting. Scary, yes, but exciting. Sometimes you have to hit a few, or a lot, of bumps in the road before you find out what you’re supposed to be doing and who you’re supposed to be doing it with.

I started off this semester worried that nothing would turn out right, but everything has fallen into place. And the ironic thing is, nothing is the way I pictured it. My future roommate backed out on me, things with the sorority have been insanely slow, and even my classes haven’t turned out how they were supposed to. But, everything is better somehow. I’m finding out who I’m supposed to be, and I’ve started to love myself again along the way.

I reunited with my best friend from high school, and I couldn’t be happier. She’s the sweetest, strongest person I know. She has the bluntness to keep me level headed and the heart to make me feel at home. She’s my rock. And I’m moving in with her this May. I couldn’t be more excited.

It’s nothing like I pictured. I didn’t plan on moving into an apartment. I didn’t plan on having to get a job. But I also didn’t expect to find such joy in the things that I didn’t plan myself. God has such a funny way of showing you that what you wanted wasn’t really what you wanted or needed.

Happiness is a choice, and it’s hard to make that choice sometimes and keep fighting. Life is hard. But, everyday I’m reminded of how blessed I am and who I am blessed with.

So who needs perfection?


Some things you’re just so sure about, and there’s immediate proof that you made the right decision. But with other things, there is no painstakingly obvious sense of what to do. It’s just its own special kind of torment, not knowing how things will play out if you do this or that or whatever. How did there get to be so many questions, but no answers?