Again, thinking.
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When you oversee my numerous imperfections & flaws, I cringe. Cringe at the thought of what if one day you decided you had enough of my imperfections & not embrace them like how you used to? Blame myself, that's what I'd do. Because no one is ever obliged to love me for who I am but yet you do/did. It's still in the present tense. I'm merely assuming. Or thinking. I always think, a little too much.
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