Underneath we’re all the same, perfectly imperfect, doing what we can, making our way through life, searching for a warm blanket and a tender hand to hold.

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I wonder if by constantly looking outward and finding things to fix we’ve become a society that doesn’t know how to look inside and love what we find.

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Most of the sensations we hold dear require that we first imagine them. We need imagination to see beyond our challenges and envision something more.

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We don’t overcome loneliness, we learn to embrace it. In the arms of self-love, loneliness slowly loosens its grip, and we realize that we’re not alone.

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