If there's no such thing as perfect then why does the word exist?

"Amanda, you need to sit still and be good like Emily."

"Amanda, you need to let Emily help you with your homework. She made the honor roll again."

"Wow, you and Emily are sisters? She's so pretty."

"Amanda, when are your boobs going to get as big as Emily's?"

I love Emily. She has always been a great older sister. She let me hang out with her and her friends, sometimes. In fact, a few times she even took the blame for me. She's as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. It's not her fault that she was born first and stole my thunder. It's not her fault that she's been perfect at everything. I wanted to be perfect, too. I just couldn't seem to get there.

But I could tolerate living under the shadow of perfect Emily, Noah had always been my best friend, my partner in crime, my protector, my soul mate, the love of my life. My everything. I may not have gotten all the beauty, intelligence or talent, but I got Noah Stewart, the one "perfect" thing I could claim as mine and I wouldn't trade him for anything in the world.

I've been unsure about many things in my life except that I have always loved him. Every single minute of every single day that I have been on this earth, my heart has belonged to him. It has never been a question, never a doubt. My love has taken on many forms, but it had always been a constant.

There are experts on love who will tell you how to get it, keep it, and get over it. We're led to believe love is complicated. It's not the love that's complicated. It's all the crap that we attach to it that makes it difficult. If you're smart, you'll realize this before it's too late and simplify.

Amanda Stewart

Noah Stewart

Noah and Amanda Stewart

I was born on March 23, 1990 at 10:57 pm in Charleston, South Carolina at Saint Francis Hospital. Noah was born on March 23, 1990 at 10:58 pm right down the hall from me. Other than the one minute that separated our births, Noah and I have always been together. We shared all of our firsts: first teeth, first smile, and first words. We started crawling at the same time and even took our first steps together.

When Noah's mom returned to work, my mom, being a stay—athome mom, offered to take care of him during the day. Mom figured two babies were just as easy to take care of as one. Usually, that isn't true. Two babies means double the diapers, double the feedings, double the screaming, and double the headaches. But not with Noah and me. As long as we were together, we were happy babies.

He and I had become an extension of each other. My mom said we developed our own language, like twins. To the untrained ear, the noises we made sounded like a bunch of gibberish, but Noah and I understood exactly what the other was saying. Noah could read me like no one else could. He knew my thoughts, my moods, and my feelings, just like I knew his.

Halloween 1996

Even at the age of six, I knew I would look hideous in it. The moms of all my friends were wholeheartedly embracing the conveniences of modern day America, like store—bought Halloween costumes. But my mom decided it would be wonderful for me and Emily to have homemade costumes. I blame Martha Stewart one hundred percent for causing my mother's temporary insanity. Mom didn't have a crafty or artistic bone in her entire body.

Emily wanted to be a princess. She had been taking ballet lessons since the age of five, so she had all the elements for a decent princess costume.

Mom grabbed a couple of Emily's light pink tutus and hot glued one on top of the other for the bottom of the gown. The top was made of one of Emily's hot pink leotards. Mom drizzled hot glue all over the fabric, and then, threw handfuls of glitter at it. She topped off her creation with a tiara made of foil and multicolored marbles for the royal jewels. Emily's costume didn't look too bad. If you throw enough glitter on something, people get distracted by the dazzle and don't notice the ugly.

I, on the other hand, wanted to be a cowgirl. A cowgirl costume was the easiest costume to put together. All that was needed was a pair of jeans, a plaid shirt, a vest, a pair of boots, and a hat. Ta—da, cowgirl! No hot glue or glitter required. I had everything I needed, except the most important item.

Mom and I were at Target when I saw it. It was made of bright red felt, the brim was trimmed in white, and the word 'cowgirl' was stitched across the front. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. My heart started to flutter.

I grabbed the hat and ran up to my mom beaming with excitement. "Mom, look at it. Isn't it the most perfect cowgirl hat you've ever seen?"

"It's a very nice hat, Amanda. Now go put it back. We've got more shopping to do," she said while pushing the shopping cart down the aisle.

The smile dropped off my face. I ran up behind her, clutching the hat against my chest. "But Mom, I need it."

"For what, sweetie?"

"Um … for my Halloween costume," I said with a smirk, and an eye roll.

"I'm making your costume this year, Amanda. You know that." I followed behind her as she continued down the aisle, paying more attention to the items she was placing in the cart than me.

"I want to be a cowgirl. It's the easiest costume to make. I already have everything except the hat. I need this hat, Mom," I pleaded.

She glanced over her shoulder at me and asked, "Why do you want to be a cowgirl?"

"Because cowgirls are cool," I said.

As if this wasn't the most obvious thing in the world.

"Noah's going to be a cool knight. I want to be a cool cowgirl and I will be if I have this hat. Please, Mom."

She stopped and squatted down in front of me, bringing us eyeto—eye, and said, "Sweetie, you are going to be the coolest kid trick or treating this year."

"So I can get the hat?" I felt the smile slowly crawl back across my face. I waited with great anticipation to hear the word, "yes" float past her lips.

"No. Guess what you're going to be for Halloween?" She smiled at me with her stormy blue grey eyes filled with excitement. Standing, she started looking through the shopping cart. When she turned back around she was holding the biggest bag of bright yellow feathers I had ever seen. I looked up at her, my face twisted in confusion. "You're going to be Tweety Bird! Isn't that going to be fun?"

I was stunned. "I don't want to be Tweety Bird. I want to be a cool cowgirl. Why can't I be a cowgirl?" I whined.

"Because I already have all the things I need to make Tweety," she said, tossing the big bag of feathers back in the cart.

"We could just put that stuff back, and you could get me this cool cowgirl hat."

"Amanda, you're going to be Tweety Bird this year. Stop arguing with me. You need to try and be more like your sister. She never gives me any trouble. You can be a cowgirl next year. Now, go put the hat back."

With my shoulders slumped and my head lowered in defeat, I dragged my feet slowly as I made my way down the aisle to put the perfect cowgirl hat back on the shelf. "I don't want to be stupid Tweety. I want to be a cowgirl. It's my costume," I grumbled.

"Amanda, hurry up! We need to get going."

My mom was so obsessed with making the Tweety costume I had started to wonder if she thought I looked like a jaundiced bubble head with puffy cheeks and lips.

I was standing in our family room dressed in a skin tight pale yellow leotard that Mom made me put on over shorts and a t—shirt. She walked into the room weighted down with an armful of supplies and dumped them out on to the floor beside me. "Whew! Ok, let's get the show on the road," she said, rubbing her palms together. I couldn't believe how excited she was about this stupid bird costume.