@jfhjk
Funny how I used to think love meant finding someone who never misunderstood me—turns out, that’s not it at all. The real magic happened when someone stayed even after they got me wrong. Not because they were perfect listeners, but because they cared enough to try again. I used to chase harmony like it was the goal—clean conversations, no friction, total alignment. But what actually held us together was the mess: the “wait, what did you mean?” moments, the awkward silences we didn’t rush to fill, the times we chose curiosity over correction. Turns out, being known isn’t about being perfectly interpreted—it’s about being willingly puzzled through. I’m glad I stopped keeping score of who “got” me and started valuing who asked, “Can you say that again?” That’s where the warmth lived—not in flawless connection, but in fumbling toward it, together.
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