Maybe we're not supposed to be perfect. Maybe this strive for perfection is just an illusion that we create for ourselves. In the time that we do "work" towards that, we forget. I forget. I forget that maybe there are rooms for error. Maybe my life isn't supposed to be figured out yet. Maybe I do need to take a couple of knocks and figure what is
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have fuckies *fuckies*
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have fuckies *fuckies*
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