How odd, it seems. To feel so inlove over and over again. Maybe I don’t seem to learn. But giving up on love has never been my type of game.
What’s more odd is this: I don’t need someone just so i could feel this feeling. I don’t think of no one as i feel giddy just by this knowing—that I’m inlove… that I love life, more than ever. That i now love the face that smiles at me in the mirror every morning. That i accept all the flaws my body is showing. That i embrace who i am and who i am becoming. It’s odd, this knowing. But the oddness of it is what beauty really is. The awkwardness of loving oneself but not feeling guilty about it. There’s beauty in it. There’s beauty, in loving, in accepting, in embracing.
There’s beauty in the most peculiar of things. If you haven’t found it, it’s okay. You just gotta keep looking. ❤️🙏🏻
Note: I find this photo of me so awkward and my poetic prose is also awkwardly written so i think they matched 😜🥰😆❤️