People love perfection.
However, there are a few people who are perfect.
Everyone has their own scars.
And so lick yourself.
Some people think that only the scars that survive can make a perfect person.
Some people think that it is precious to hear their own pain.
Looking around, whether it is happiness or pain is life.
We are constantly creating personalities, just like people we know.
We create subjectively.
Give them joy and give them sorrow.
Some even represent just one emotion, or feeling.
Some are their own past, or their expected self.
All are self, and they all live strong.
Like myself, or if I wasn't alive, where would they come from.
Although it is a slow cut, it is still full of love.
to, dear
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