Are we humans actually able to love without minding physical appearance? 

This is something I thought of when I looked at someone "that's growing on me", so to speak. This person is not, in my standards, what I would say "beautiful". Their face is damaged severely by the aches of puberty and age. Their hair seems heavily mistreated and I don't think their physical endurance is up to any exercise. Of course, these are all suppositions. The flip side of the coin, really, is that they are one the kindest, most honest and patient people I've met recently. And the fact that I like them so much is connected to the feeling that they are all that I'm not.

 

I get back to the same crossroads where I meet people who represent all the values and interests that so much attract me and make me like them, but I don't know how to become that. I am always wanting to be like someone else, to have in me things that seem so admirable in others, but that frighten me at the same time. It frightens me what one has to do to become those things; things that seem naturally embedded in those I look up to. Hence, I struggle a lot when faced with these people because I question my value. I am never enough.

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This, of course, affects my judgement towards those who I deem attractive. Physical appearance seems to enter in a dispute with behavioral features. I know what people I like looks like. I know what is the minimum I expect. But somehow it doesn't really matter what I think,