I was doing dishes but I had to stop and write this down.
I love real people.
I love people who get REALLY REALLY mad.
I love people who make a mistake in traffic and then panic and put their hands on their heads because they have NO idea what to do with all the cars honking at them.
I love people who kill their houseplants.
I love people who can’t cook but try.
I love people who don’t make the bed (and the ones who do, too).
I love groggy, morning eyes that can’t hide ANYTHING, and also the people who choose not to hide anything for the rest of the day.
I love people who are HONEST. And I don’t mean, “Oooh, look at me, I’m so vulnerable I’m being ‘honest’ with you,” bullcrap. There’s a wave of people in my generation who use “honesty” to manipulate and I can smell it coming a mile away. (‘Cuz I did it, too, for a long time.)
I love people who step in dog poo and crack up.
I love people who suddenly cry when they realize something wonderful, even if it makes me uncomfortable. Their emotions are always so near the surface that sometimes they just fall out.
I love people who lose it. Just freakin’ lose it.
I love people who work hard, whether it’s for work or a hobby or cleaning the kitchen sink.
I love people who try HARDER.
I love surrounding myself with people who are all these things, even if they’re not physically near me.
I just love REAL people.
I’m only just starting to figure out who I am as a “real” person…what I really think and what I really know and how I really belong in the world. But let’s face it. I dunno. I dunno much. And neither do you if we’re all being honest. So let’s do that, yeah? Let’s all just be honest and get really really mad and laugh at dog shit and make our beds or don’t make our beds. Whatever we do, let’s just be real people.