I love, but I am not entirely sure how to be loved: how to be seen and known for the utterly flawed woman I am. It demands surrender. It demands acknowledging that I am not perfect, but perhaps I deserve affection anyway.

I recognize that I'm human, and the older I get, the more I realize how fallible I am, how fallible we all are.

This is who I am. I'm not perfect. I don't want to try to be perfect.

True self-love is the opposite of narcissism, where one can’t take their eyes off themselves and feels superior to another. Self-love is wholeness. It allows one to say, “I am perfect just the way I am and so are you.”

I can't help but laugh at how perfect I am.

I'm not perfect. I am not Iron Man.