All the fun people I know have flaws.
Not the curated kind, either. Not “I care too much” or “I’m a perfectionist”; those fake flaws people use on job applications. I mean the real ones. The ones you notice right away, or don’t see until they catch you off guard in the best way.
They’re messy. Loud. Chronically late. Forgetful. They interrupt. They rant. They road rage. They hold weird grudges about things like bad coffee or needless movie remakes. They can’t sit still for long. They say too much. Or nothing at all, until something cracks and suddenly it all comes out.
And I love them for it.
These are the people who make group chats worth staying in. The ones who make hanging out chaotic and memorable. The ones who get passionate about some small, ridiculous detail, and pull you into their excitement like it’s a story worth telling (which it maybe always isn’t).
I thought the goal was to be well-rounded. Smooth. Easy to manage.
Now I think it’s to be cracked open, just enough that the good, fun stuff can leak out.
There’s something magnetic about someone who doesn’t quite fit. Who’s too much in exactly the right way. You don’t always know what to do with them; but you never forget them. They leave an impression. They stay in the room after they’ve left.
And maybe it’s not the flaw itself. Maybe it’s what the flaw makes possible. Laughter. Honesty. Room to be real.
Perfect people don’t make me feel anything. But give me someone who’s flailing a little, someone who’s trying to figure it out, someone who says “wait, sorry, let me start that again”; and I’ll feel safe every time.
If you ask me, the flaws are the fun part.
The light leaks in from there.
Ghosts of the Navigator 