I hate the word perfect. Perfection doesn't exist, nothing is even close to perfect. You get attached to something and the next day it's gone. Your happy one day and the next you want to cry. Well at least that's what I thought until I found an exception. Individually we are complete messes, but together we are perfect. Yes, the insecure girl and the cocky jock are perfect. "What do you want?" I ask, firmly. "To know you."