“Your heart is a mosaic,” he tells me softly, my face in his warm, capable hands. “Thousands of pieces woven together, each one with its own story. Your heart is beautiful and kind, and it loves the way it does not in spite of all its pieces, but because of them.” A gentle smile as he swipes at the tears on my cheekbones. “You are what it means to grow. To bloom after a bitter winter. You aren’t the same as you were, but why would you be? You get better every single day, even when I think there’s no possible way, because you are committed to loving yourself, to being the best version of you.
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