“The sin I chose.” — If the world is determined to brand our tale a transgression, then grant me the grace of remaining unrepentant. Let me be the sinner who never kneels for forgiveness, loving you in a way that harmed no one, disturbed no peace, and broke no heart but my own.
Her flaw, let that be mine: For it was there, in that quiet and unlovely room she had tried so desperately to keep hidden, that love finally ceased to be an admiration of what was beautiful enough to be seen. It became something far more frightening.
So let her perfection belong to those who can only love her from a distance. Let them have the polished version, the immaculate display, the woman who never appears to need anything. https://t.co/BeSn06KkVQ
No every crack or wound is a plea to be repaired and healed. Perhaps the things she had spent years calling imperfect were never imperfections at all.. they were simply the most truthful parts of her— the places where she had not yet learned to disguise sorrow as composure.