So many things we wish we could change about ourselves, and yet we want to be loved for who we are.
Who are we, but people stuck at the intersection of “if only I” and “accept me for me,” watching how we think we’re seen, and how we see ourselves, like a hesitant pedestrian as thoughts race through, trying to beat a yellow light.
Occasionally, a collision. Our self-loathing and our longing for acceptance pause, look around, and cross anyway.
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