We are all weak, we are all fragile.
we are not all whom we wish to be, and we certainly can not all do what we wish to do, that does not make us any less of a person, and that does not mean that we are not still loved by those who want us, and not who we want to be.
we spend so much time trying to be who we want to be, that we forget who we are, and by forgetting who we are we forget to breath and we forget to live. We must bathe in our faults, and we must rise to our imperfections and vices and celebrate the glory of being alive.
and through all our flaws, we are still so very lovable.
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