I don’t want you to like me for my looks. I mean, I do, but I’m not most proud of that. God made me pretty, and I’m thankful for that.

I want you to like me for how I think. For how I write. I work hard, daily, to cultivate the way I think.

My rebel heart pushing to understand universal concepts. The things that make hearts beat and blood flow. To fight and sacrifice.

My depth. My heart. My sensitivity.

Not accepting the way things are, yet delighting in the simplicity of a cup of water.

Delighting in the simplicity of you, of me.

I just want you to like me.