There was no way to describe how it felt, or what it meant, to be loved by someone who had seen each and every part of me, all my horrible and selfish places, all my insecurities, all my doubts and anxieties and peevish, petty parts, and yet still wanted me. He loved every part of me, maybe even more so for those ugly places, because how could I be me without all those layers tangled together?
