You might think it’s about being loved for how you look. But what you truly need is to be loved for who you are—beneath the image, before the performance, outside the frame. Only one of these forms of love endures. And only you can sense which one matters.
This isn’t something you understand by reading it. It’s something that settles into you like a tuning fork—felt, not just known. The moment you hear its tone, everything else begins to sound hollow.
Even in a world obsessed with surface, there are still places—rare, resonant—where connection isn’t a transaction but a recognition. The real ones see you. Not the costume. Not the past. Just you. And somehow, that’s more than enough.
Daedelus Kite 