Soft, but forced curls falling about shoulders, facial features hidden beneath layers meant to mask insecurity but instead tend to accentuate a neverending search for elusive inner beauty.
                That kind of person.
The sort that would not bother to stare into the night and wonder at the fact that stars can exist. The type that would step upon a blade of grass and not fret in the slightest that they may have ended something, some amazing piece of the universe. The kind of sad human that would consider who might be an ideal acquaintence simply by glancing at a physical appearance that means so very little.

Nothing is what it seems but what things seem to be is everything to that kind of person, the kind of person I never want to be. Strange, peculiar little humans with not a care regarding anything important in the world.