There is something cruel in every love. My heart has wronged you and it has wronged you before. It means I am imperfect. Born imperfect. Educated imperfectly. Moulded in my formative years, by imperfect hands. And so, expect not else. But if you look for someone to love you, imperfectly. Look no further. I am he, if you will still love me. I am he.