Seashells.

Photo credits: Tumblr

People are like seashells. Seashells in general, are beautiful things, they are all different, some more than others but all stand out in their distinct ways. Sometimes you pick up a golden one, but it's broken and chipped around the sides. Sometimes you pick up just fragments of it but still keep it anyway.

The world is my ocean. With thousands of shells uncovered beneath the ever-changing tides, someone will come along. Someone will push through furious waters to settle beneath my feet. He will nuzzle against my bare skin and I will pick him up. I will cherish, even just a tiny fragment that's left of him. I will mend him, and make him feel whole again.

I hold on my hope, that I shall become a seashell in someone's world. I shall be picked up and fixed and loved and feel whole again.

We are humans, humans like seashells. 

We are of loud confidence. 

We are of prominent presence. 

We are of soft spoken beauty.