I am not a number.

I am not the number of friends I have (or haven’t).

I am not the number of likes on my cheeky status update or just-posted profile picture.

I am not the number of text messages that make my phone spring to life and jingle.

I am not the number of dollar signs curled up like little sleeping bags at the bottom of my bright yellow purse.

I am not the number of pounds the bitchy bathroom scale spits out from her glowing red eyes.

I am not a number.

I am a mango cherry sorbet soul lying on blades of dewy mint green grass in the blazing summer sun.

I am a dancing salsa body that moves and wanders and lusts for starry night sky nebulas and wide open wheat fields.

I am a vulnerable, shaking spirit that hides sometimes, sparkles sometimes, but mostly just wants to play and laugh and stick out my tongue.

I am a perfectly imperfect human being.

I am a raw, broken soul, f*cking up all the time and succeeding all the time.

I am a beautiful mess.

I can’t be summed up.

None of us can.

We are not numbers.

~ 

Relephant:

Our Love is an Ocean.

~

Author: Sarah Harvey

Editor: Travis May

Photo: Flickr/Sarah Zucca