You are not your face, nor your eyes, nor your ears, nor your nose. You are not your neck, nor your shoulders, nor your back, nor your ass. You are not your hands, nor your feet, nor your fingers, nor your toes. You are not your skin that gravity melts like the sun does a cone. You are not your waistline that refuses to stay trim. You are not your naked body that feels so insignificant beneath the florescent lights of a public locker room.

You are a beautifully imperfect soul that has been hurt by other beautifully imperfect souls and that has certainly hurt other beautifully imperfect souls and that is trying desperately to leave the world a little bit better, a little bit softer, a little bit warmer, a little bit brighter, even.