Let me tell you about the people I love. Those with an identity. Those who are solid, not transparent, not piece-meal, not a collection of white-noise in the shape of who they think they should emulate. I don’t just want to see your atoms; I want to know why they choose to hang out together all the time.
I love people who don’t apologise for their outfit, or their presence, or their laughter. I love people with big hair, big dreams and big auras. I want to know you’re here. I want to know that you’re here and not have to reassure you that you’re welcome.
Let me tell you about the women I love. I love women who wear makeup for the fun of drawing on themselves, rather than the need to mask-up. It doesn’t have to be war-paint, girl. It can be the fairy lights on the tree. I love women who prioritise kindness and radiate so much better-than-magazine beauty because we can all see how much you care and it’s breath-taking to be seen by you.
Let me tell you about the men I love. I love men who know the difference between feminism and misandry. I love men who artfully blend masculinity with honesty and don’t forget to shower. I love men who don’t equate their power with cruelty or their honesty with weakness.
I love people who learn for genuine love of the material, because their curiosity overwhelms them. Not because they need bragging rights to content so they have a reason to be at the party. It doesn’t matter what they memorised anyway, The Thinker will tell them they’re barely tolerated and they’ll leave knowing they couldn’t generate care if they were on fire.
I love people who know they have a choice. I love people who understand that their outside is merely a reflection of their inside. I love people who see you for what you are and therefore could never take your criticism seriously. I love people who know that they’re not who you think they are. They are whoever the f*ck they want to be and they make no bones about the fluidity of such.
I love people who can choose and enjoy what they like without the scrutiny and approval of others. I love people who show me that it’s possible to be happy and successful without pain and suffering. I love people who debunk pain and gain myths and skip down the path to happiness, paved with fire though it may appear to the terror-stricken hoards who swear it can’t be done.
I love people who make their art. People who are bold enough to show the world what they do, irrespective of the response. People who don’t let potential negativity stand in the way of real action.
But most of all, most of all, I love people who don’t change their opinion of themselves in the face of every single other person. I love people who have transcended the comparison game, which is perhaps (ironically) the reason I don’t (yet) love me.