"I would hate to be perfect, perfect is boring."

I've never had a perfect day. Mostly because I don't believe in them. Perfect moments are much more memorable, and much more realistic. It isn't right to think you've spent an entire day, from the start to the finish without any one thing not going perfectly. If you say you have you're a liar and a scoundrel and I want nothing to do with you.

That's not true, my favorite people all happen to be liars and scoundrels, so I probably want a lot to do with you.

But the point is, my days have never been perfect. But I have had a perfect moment. A few actually, fortunately. Although none of them momentous or profound or belonging in a movie shown four times a day on lifetime.

The interesting thing about my perfect moments are that they really weren't that perfect at all. They've all had something incredibly imperfect to center around, whether tears, heartbreak, death, or deception. And I've spent a good deal of time deciding whether this meant that my perfect moments, which felt so complete and fulfilling, were not perfect at all, merely astounding in a way that they've worked through my memories and color everything that happens around me with their smells and their feel and sometimes a song playing in a store on a random Sunday morning.

But I've decided, because it best suits my purposes, that they were, in fact, perfect. And I've decided this based on nothing more than they are the moments that I hold closest to me, secreted away in whatever part of my brain I keep to myself, so that someday I may take them out and wrap myself in them and use them to write something poetic and dramatic and a little bit silly (sort of like right now.)

Maybe because these moments had so many things wrong with them I love them so dearly. Maybe because they had great consequences, or tragic endings, or because they changed nothing in my life in any apparent way except to push one more cog into the right slot. I don't know, and honestly, I don't care. And, in fact, maybe it takes really horrible things to make you see the beautiful things that come out of them. Maybe I needed those tears to clear my eyes, or that heartbreak to clear my head. It's like a stomach ache, you never realize how good it feels NOT to have one, until you do.

And with that, I realize, I would hate for my perfect moments to be too perfect. A summer day on a blanket in a backyard, the sound of water and smell of a bonfire on a cool night, A 3am giggle-fest with the least likely person to giggle you've ever met, or life and death in the same room in such an incredibly tangible way you feel like the universe shared some big secret with you alone.

None of those were perfect, and all of them were the most perfect moments of my life.