The crazy thing is people think they know you. They think that because they know the sound of your laugh and the face you make when you don’t like something, they have you figured out. But they don’t. They don’t know about the things you’ve been through and how those things have shaped you into who you are and why you do the things you do. Why you have the scars you do, on your skin or on your soul and heart. They think they know, but really they couldn’t even begin to grasp who you are. The reason you have the mannerisms you do. The reason you turn out the third wheel on your skateboard so the logo shows. The reason you took up guitar in the first place. The reason you can’t wear black Vans. Where you got that ring on your fourth finger and why you wear it. Why when that song comes on, you’ll always pause for a moment, if even for just a fraction of a second, and remember that summer you’d swore to never forget. These things make you who you are, and maybe no one will ever fully understand that. But I think that’s beautiful. I think we’re all just beautiful masterpieces made up of these little unique quirks, and these amazing memories, some happy, some sad, some peaceful, some even heartbreaking. But all of them beautiful. Because they’re all woven together and jumbled up to make us into who we are. I don’t know, I think that’s beautiful.