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you are not only loved when you bloom, you are loved in the quiet stages too—the small beginnings, the uncertain unfolding, the days when no one notices how much growing you are doing beneath the surface. like a flower returning to itself every spring, there is something beautiful about the way you keep becoming. again and again, you find your light.

and perhaps that is what love really is: watching someone bloom countless times, and never growing tired of the view.

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