Identity.

I love words.
My head is full of cotton balls and dreams.
My hands are weaker than my heart.
I know nothing, but I suspect a thing or two.
My entire personality is built around a strong belief against perfection.
I’m rife with useless facts and work-in-progress schemes.
Most of the time, I won’t say anything, if I don’t have anything to say.
I’ll see right through you.
I want to disappear completely.
I literally don’t know where to go, but I’m not stopping.