Do you accept imperfections of your life, or do you pick at them and complain about them? I look back at photos of myself when I was younger, thinking how lovely I was, and yet knowing at the time I was more focused on things I would change than I was on what I loved. We are funny beings, we humans. We aren't supposed to be perfect. We shouldn't try to focus too much on what we'd like to be different about our appearance. We are like flowers in a big garden. Each petal is a little different and that makes the garden beautiful. And some of the petals have a little brown on the edges. I find those the most interesting of all.
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