Day 66


I understand that everyone is flawed, that everyone has imperfections.  These are good things, they make people unique and like them, I have flaws and imperfections (FYI the blackness is not an imperfection, it is a cancer, a foreign entity).

I wish I didn’t seem to fit so very snugly into everyone’s imperfections though, into their flaws:  Mom’s martyrdom, Dad’s emotionless times, my wife’s self-consciousness and inability to recognize her strength, her beauty, her capacity for love and greatness.


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