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.