You smile at me when I feel small. You smile at me when I feel big. Sometimes, I convince myself that you are not real. That you are from somewhere else inside my mind. But if you were, could I feel it when you hug me? When you kiss me on the forehead and say, "Sweetie, it will be alright. Believe me." I don't believe so. You are not a figment of my imagination. If you aren't, then that makes me come to the conclusion that angels are real. There is no way that a human being can be this amazingly complex and beautiful. It seems to me that you are perfect. But you are imperfect all the same, because you make me feel amazing about my self. I love it when you say, "Don't frown. You don't know how many people would fall in love with your smile." Even when you are not with me, I think of you and feel amazing. I know, I AM AMAZING. No one can tell me otherwise. This is a fact. And you are a celestial being, an angel, you are perfect. And you make up for my imperfectness. But it's my IMPERFECTNESS that makes me amazing.