You are perfect.
But no one is perfect. Everybody knows that. So, how could she be perfect?
There are some days where you wake up and you feel like shit. Sometimes you feel like you cannot get anything right. Hell, some mornings you might not even want to get up from your bed, just go back straight to sleeping, rotting in your own thoughts. No energy. Some day, you just curse the fuck out of allergies because you can not handle anymore damned sneezes. Well, today is one of those days. It just is.
But at least I know I’ve got her.
Maybe not right here. Not right now. Not physically.
But I’ve got her. In here.
And that is what makes you perfect.
The idea of her reminds me that she’s with me. Right in here. And that grants me the biggest smile. And that power me through whatever life has thrown at you.
I think love blinds you. And I cannot deny that this is the evidence of that. Maybe no one is absolutely perfect. Because perfection, in my definition, cannot be attained.
But have you feel the way I feel? On the worst day, the thought of she brightens the darkest winter. Isn’t it strange to fall in love so many times…with the same person? How could it be so.
True. Nobody is perfect. But if the idea of you being you is perfect and nothing else is going to be you better than you. I’m sure there is a blatant fallacy in my logic somewhere. But what the fuck are you gonna do?
She is perfect. To me.