We tend to be like roses, all proper and sober, whereas wildflowers are what we actually are.
We have thousand voices whispering in our heads all the time. We fail miserably and nurse our countless open wounds secretly.
We might pretend to be blissful but we are crazy and goofy in our own ways. We are absurd, weird and ridiculous in ways beyond imagination.
Yet, in our countless imperfections and numerous flaws, we are humans who have within them the gift of magic.
The words we blabber, the drawings we scribble, the atrocious things we read, the numbers we crunch, the equations we solve, the broken songs we sing and the crazy ways in which we dance, precisely make us human.
Before you cry yourself to sleep for the fact that you are insane and weird, do realize that you are insanely beautiful in your own special ways.
Realize your gifts, dear broken souls, for even birds with broken wings never give up their greatest desire, the desire to soar high into the vast blue sky.