caught up in static dreams

I like words.
Thoughts.
The creation of emotions, made by your own fantasy, giving the big Something a small meaning. 
I like dreams. The kind if dreams your brain creates, while you are asleep, careless, small and innocent. The kind of dreams, we can't understand; but just simply are. 
I like to be alive.
I like to be imperfect, even if it hurts sometimes.

My English isn't flawless tho, I happen to be half Italian/half Swiss