I’m not my name. I’m not my body. I’m not the books I read, or not, nor the movies I watch, or not. I’m not the clothes I wear, the music I listen to, the food I eat. I’m not the friends I have, the people who I talk to, and I’m not who I love. I’m not the brands I buy, nor the hair I have, nor the size I wear. I’m not my color. I’m not my smell. I am none of that. I am everything, and more. Yes, I am the movies I watch, the music I listen to, but more than that, I am what I feel with it. I’m every feeling that comes to me each moment I’m alive, and, finally, I am all this together, I am a mix of what I am, each and every single detail, but above it all, I am much more inside than out.
how cool would it be to have someone secretly love you like someone who just watches you do stupid stuff and appreciates every little thing about you and even if they see you trip over your own feet they’ll still smile because they love you but they’re too afraid to tell you
(Source: skeletlz, via phantasmagoricalwonderment)
