We fall in love with reckless abandon, and not only with people, but life. Our passions are our breath, and through them we create our own beautiful world that from the outside is both majestic and insane.
We see the worst in people and believe the best, because we know the ugly parts of our own souls all too well.
We pick at old wounds, and don’t let people go because we’re afraid of what we lose by moving on.
But we do move on, carrying bits and pieces of the past along as souvenirs. We understand that we are stained like glass, and this patchwork of color is what makes us whole.
We crave adventure but know that the people we keep close to us are who we really call home.
Love is our flame, and we lose it to start a wildfire when complacency has made a muse of our hearts.
We dream of the future, and find its pursuit is greater than the destination.
We are the creative minds: the daydreamers and night singers, both shadows and spotlights in a crowd.
We feel deeply, hurt softly, and know that love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
And we are not hopeless.