The Best Part of Imperfect
A heart on a sticky note
A purple heart, drawn in glittery gel pen, because it was the nearest thing to hand (which surprises her, because she never uses gel pens. she had no idea she owned any)
Drawn on a small white sticky note with ragged edges (this doesn't surprise her. she has sticky notes everywhere - all over her desk and the walls - and it's rare that she doesn't have some close handy)
The heart is wide and rounded, like an apple with a pointy bottom. It looks like the kind of heart you'd associate with the kindest, most warm-hearted person you know.
But it does strike her that it is almost (just a few lines and a dash of liquid paper away) from being a circle. And the colour - if you can't see the glitter, the purple is almost dark enough to be called black. She can't help but feel that she's made some kind of accidental; metaphor for human nature. It is too easy for someone to become purple and sparkly and fabulous and loving to become someone black and depressed and depressing and more like a black hole than anything else - pulling others down with them.
It occurs to her that she wants to stay purple and sparkly and loving and hopeful more than anything else.
Most of all, however, the heart is imperfect, and perhaps a little wobbly around the edges. She likes that. She's imperfect too.
We can't always be fabulous. Sometimes we're just okay.