I think everyone has a specific reason to be alive. 

Mine is watching the world around me and to notice the flowers on the sidewalk, fighting through the concrete. 

To feel the wind on my face and shiver in the pouring rain. 

Being one with the world but knowing I can never be that.

Sometimes I wonder if that purpose is enough, but then I remember how I want to be noticed by someone.

 Someone who sees me in the crowd and thinks :

„wow...she is struggling to survive but so beautiful".

 I don't mean appearance wise. 

I want to be called beutiful for my thinking, my soul and scars. 

People are beautiful because they struggle,but somehow still try to smile in the sun. 

I want to be like a flower in the concrete. 

Free, beutiful and noticed.