Inspired by “Astronomy” by Conan Gray.
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Every single one of your perceived imperfections is amazing. They are all perfect, just like you. Nothing you could do would make me stop liking you, if anything, you should stop liking me. I’m rude, aggressive, insecure, needy, closed off, untrusting, I’ll never want to worry you so I won’t tell you if I’m spiraling. I won’t tell you if I feel horrible about myself, I won’t let you know when I hate myself. I won’t tell you when I need something because I don’t want to be a burden. You asked for reasons why I’m not the most amazing, perfect, and beautiful person in the world, like you say I am, well here they are.
I’m nothing like you, so how could I be perfect? How could I be amazing?
You, with your kind, enchanting eyes.
You, with your beautifully shy smile.
You, the one who makes me laugh.
You, the one who doesn’t want people you care about to be hurt.
You, tall and safe.
You, always amazing.
You, always sweet.
You, always there for your friends.
E, you’re perfect, and I don’t think that I deserve you at all, but I’ll keep trying to. I’ll keep trying to because I’m selfish and I want to be there for you, and if you ever decide I’m too much, not enough, that you don’t like me anymore, when you realize you deserve better, I’ll understand and let you go, but I hope against hope that that won’t happen for awhile.
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