You (i)

You are human — skin and bones, blood and tears. Your heart beats at 76 beats per minute, like the calm seas washing up against the shore. You are six-thousand, two-hundred and four days of experiences, unnerving thoughts and (countless) bad school grades. You have bruised knees and raw lips and the dullest of eyes — they didn't shine or gleam and fell flat when I caught your gaze. You are human and you are real. You are your mistakes and insecurities that don't let you sleep at night. You are the salty tears that run down your cheeks after watching that sappy love story, the leaps and bounds of faith that you take. You point out the ugliness of our world but do nothing about it anyway. You are made out of a million strings of imperfection so perfectly woven together. And I love you all the same.