Waiting for perfection

It's 6 o'clock if my phone is correct. Unless it's off by a few minutes, or in a different time zone. But I fixed that right?

I sigh, shoving the device into my back pocket. I'll look at it again once I get home. It makes me feel anxious, worrying over anything except my email.

Which I agreed to read only when I get home, to my loving and supportive family. They'll be loving and supportive right?

If I don't get in. If I don't get in they'll be very supportive, bordering sympathetic. They'll tell me it's alright like always, when it's really not. I've dreamed of this for years and if it falls through I'll be devastated. I don't want alright; I want perfect.

On second thought, the support group isn't the best support. I'd prefer actually getting what I want.

So much that I forget to open the front door. I hiss, recoil my poor injured knuckles away from the door knob. I fumble around my pocket for my keys. They fall to the floor. Is this a sign that I won't like what's about to happen?

No that's crazy. I take the offending pieces of metal, and it takes three fumbling attempts for the door to unlock. I push it open, slam it closed as I slip past.

My sister Lyra looks up from her phone. Then rolls her eyes and looks back down. I don't have the strength to entertain her behavior. Maybe it'll be my excuse to take out disappointment later.

Well not maybe. There's a 95 percent chance that your pride will lie shattered, your self confidence broken, with the remains of your hope and dreams to act as a blanket to your failures in life. But sure! Be positive in the face of impossibility! Though mom warned you about it. Keep faith like the optimistic idiot you are! But please, use the word "most likely" instead of "maybe".

I pull out a seat and drag my laptop onto the dining table. I sign in, search up my email, sign in again, open the page. There's nothing there.

Nothing I anticipated. Something should be here at half past seven. No, something will come at half past seven. It has to. No one can be bad enough to get nothing right? Yeah that makes sense. There's a set path for everyone, a place for everyone. Something will come.

The clock says only a quarter of the hour has passed. Okay, you still have a chance. Just wait fifteen minutes longer before you lose faith. Fifteen minutes. Not too hard right?

It is, but I can't change that fact. I just have to wait and pray. And then hope and wish. Pray again, wish two times. Keep my fingers crossed and my head high. Don't let doubts cross my mind. Pray a third time. Make promises to myself that I won't be surprised. Whatever happens is my doing, and I can't blame anyone else for it.

Then hope that the results don't hurt. Hope for the best. Expect the worst. Know I'll get into somewhere. Not the place you want to go.

Five minutes have passed. My phone rings, and I let out a little gasp. Something came. Not the place I want to go.

Refresh the page. Close my eyes. Cross my fingers, pray again. Take a breath. Open my eyes. Five emails have arrived.

Click on one. Click on the next. Click on until my head feels light. There's nothing more to click on. I'm happy. This is enough for me. It should be enough for me.

It's not actually enough.

My mother comes through the doors, and I slip her a breathy greeting. I think she smiles at me. My sister rests a hand on my shoulder. My mother huddled around the computer.

"Have you gotten it yet?"

Seven minutes have passed. It's 7:27. Three more minutes till my dreams come true. Three more minutes until they fly off without me. Three more minutes till my support group arises.

Make that two. "Not yet."

My mother hums. My sister leans closer. I refresh the page again. Two more mails. And two more minutes.

Make that one.

One click, I didn't get in. I'm okay. Last click. I squeal, smile wide at the news. I got in. I got into one of my paths. Not the first path I want, but another path I love.

My mother gives me a hug, says "I'm so proud of you!" Lyra mumbles something I think is "good job". She's still hunched over, eyes concentrated on the screen.

"Thank you!" I'm happy. Not ecstatic but happy. Safe, reassuring. I'll be alright. I want to be more than alright.

One minute has passed. 7:30 glares from the corner of the screen. I grab the mouse and refresh the page. Nothing changes. Refresh again.

...there's still nothing.

That's not reassuring at all. Another minute passes. Refresh again. One minute passes. Nothing changes.

I chew on my bottom lip, my breath picking up in speed as another minute passes. I click refresh. I close my eyes.

This is all your doing. Don't get mad at anyone else. You want to be perfect, want the perfect path. But you're already alright. Alright can become enough.

I open my eyes and there's a new message. I click on the email. I hold my breath. I pray again, and wish that this won't end tragically. Pray I'll get in.

I click it again. The warmth drains from my face, my smile dropping into a frown. This is not what I expected.

Wait listed.

That's not what I was expecting. It's not a rejection. I wasn't accepted. I knew that would happen. But I thought…

"That's not technically a rejection." Lyra says. I nod. I nod again. That's right, it's not a rejection. There's a chance I'll be accepted. Maybe I'll make it into my dream college. Follow my perfect plan. Or I'll be just alright. Never perfect.

I want perfect. I don't want alright. I still have the chance to be more than enough.