Why have I always believed that I needed to be perfect? Lack of love, guess, from the ones who were supposed to be there for me. No matter how many imperfections I show or if I lose my way a few times. They were supposed to love me. And since they didn’t, I didn’t feel as though I was good enough. I doubted myself and my beauty (imperfections and all). Forced to think that perfection equates love. But it doesn’t….
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