Imperfections and flaws.

Why do we always care about people who ignore us and neglect the people who care for us?
Why do we always find imperfections in others but not ourselves?
Why do we always treasure the people only after we lose them?
Why are we always greedy for more and can't be satisfied with what we have?
Why do we still love the person who've hurt us over and over again?
Why does the appearance matter often more than the heart?