It's not the large things that sends a man to the madhouse death he's ready for or murder incest robbery fire flood no it's the continuing series of small tragedies
Trust is like a paper once it's crumpled it can't be perfect again you can flatten the paper and try and make it as straight as you want but it will never be perfect again
Let someone love you just the way you are as flawed as you might be as unattractive as you sometimes feel and as unaccomplished as you think you are
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