I am arrantly sensitive. It must be one of our glitches to love so deeply that it hurts to even process it. In the moments when I feel the loneliest and feel like what once was is gone I still can’t help but care. I care so much that I let it take over. It takes over and I feel possessed by an emotion that is slowly eating me alive. To care at an extraordinary rate is rather beautiful. Beauty is not created from a field of perfection. Perfection is fiction and beauty is what we feel, think and say. Despite how much it kills us sometimes there is nothing more surreal than caring for another human being and them caring back. I am arrantly sensitive but that’s part of what makes me a rather beautiful human being.