Perfectly Imperfect

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No matter who you are, no matter where you’re from, you were born to live. You were born to feel and taste and touch, to use every single one of your senses. You were born to make friends, and to lose them. You were born to create a world for yourself that satisfies you. You were born to read, you were born to write. You were born to smile and to cry, to feel happiness and to feel pain. You weren’t born just to lie there and do absolutely nothing; you were born to make a difference for yourself, no matter how small the effort may be. Sometimes, it doesn’t make sense. One day you might feel so lost, and so hurt, that you don’t want to go on. But you move past those days, and you force yourself to move forward, because if you don’t, you’re going to miss the rest of your life. You might surprise yourself with what you can achieve. Maybe you’re not a painter, or a writer, or a poet. Maybe you’re not a doctor, or a dentist, or a musician, and that’s okay. Your life is up to you. We’re individuals, and we were made to live that way. It’s okay to need a little bit of help every now and then; we’re only human. We are perfectly imperfect.

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