That I have been feeling extremely despondent lately about the lack of consistency in human relations, and about human ambiguity and ambivalence in general is an understatement, and maybe it is an admittedly flawed judgement call on my part to seek perfection in those who to me have the closest blood ties, it is a mistake i've committed uncountable times, and one which I can't seem to keep from repeating inspite of the dissapointment and disillusionment it brings.

Something always happens though to remind me that there is something worthwhile in humanity, something which keeps the idea of bowing my head in defeat for my search of resolution at bay.

Today I was engaged in a conversation with someone about subjects whose natures were of the mundane, specifically about homemade Christmas decorations and gifts which were the creation of nuns who were already in their advanced ages. Though it was a pleasant interlude, I didn't think anything of it until our talk about handicrafts and holidays and bazaars led us to how many sisters in the home were patients and how many were part of the staff.

It caused me no small amount of shock when she mentioned offhand that she was one of the patients, one who had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer in its third stage, and one who was currently in remission. She seemed so healthy, and so filled with life, vitality, and exuberance that it took me a while to process that what she meant when she called her illness 'C.A.' was cancer. She could just as easily have been talking of having caught a cold. She certainly caught my immediate affinity and admiration. It was the first time I have ever met her, but already I could say that I felt love for this person.

How easy it is for us to see the flaws, and faults in those around us, and to treat those who bring a sense of balance and stability into our lives with callousness and insensitivity, as if they'll be there for us to take for granted forever. How effortlessly it is that we forget that it is the easiest thing in the world for us to do to hurt those who truly love us, it doesn't even take any special skill or talent, they just have to be unlucky enough to happen to still love us during one of our 'bad days'.

Perhaps I am not entirely blameable in wishing for perfection from those who I love, yet the moment that I begin indulging in fantasies of perfection in my own self, the second that I stop believing that I am capable of mistakes, the minute that I lose the ability to apologize is the time that I lose all possibilities of touching upon perfection, or at least as close to perfection as being human can allow us to be.

I stop being worthwhile. I wouldn't even pass the first stage.