The only people for me are the ones who don't hold back, the ones who can't contain themselves and their curiosity about the world, the ones who consider life and death, the ones who pray, cry, laugh when happiness is misplaced.

The only people for me are the ones who would rather eat pizza than a salad, the ones who watch movies and tell homework to screw itself, the ones who remember what it is to be human, and that is perfectly flawed.

The only people for me are the ones who say "chicks before dicks" like it's an anthem, the ones who read but can't write, sing but can't dance, play hard, sleep for hours, stay awake for days, the ones who watch the sun rise and ask why even thought it's childish.

The only people for me are the ones who stand up on their own, listen to music, breathe, and are thankful.

The only people for me are the ones who talk to God, make mistakes, know their limits but push anyway, the ones who hop the fence and land flat on their backs, the ones who wait ten thousand years to say yes, but ten seconds to say no.

The only people for me are the ones who curse in different tongues, the ones who are not ashamed of they are but still have their private insecurities, keep their heads high, drink coke, have cold fingers, love books and old songs.

The only people for me are the ones who speak in silence, whisper in crowds, draw crosses on their hands, live by what they parents taught them (and teach them), are polite, crazy, introverted, the ones who inhale deeply when they smell gasoline, and raid the buffets in restaurants.

The only people for me, sadly, are the ones who simply don't exist.