My description is : I’m May— the one who starts the day with bergamot tea steaming in my favorite mug and ends it with vinyl softly spinning in the dark. I chase sunsets from rooftops, devour tacos in the pouring rain, and gather fleeting stories from strangers like seashells. I speak three languages fluently and curse creatively in a few more. My laugh fills rooms, my silence holds worlds, and I still remember exactly how the light fell across your face the day we met. I’m drawn to unfinished hearts, to people who carry their questions like lanterns. Perfection leaves me cold; raw, unfiltered presence sets me on fire. I live for those 3 a.m. truths, for pauses that say more than words ever could. If you can sit beside me in comfortable quiet and feel everything anyway, we’re already speaking the same language. I don’t need someone to complete me — I want someone to beautifully complicate me. Let’s create moments too vivid for any filter.
I like: I’m May, endlessly curious about the thin line where science and ancient myths blur into one. I read neuroscience until the early hours, then weep over Greek tragedies as the sun rises. Black holes feel like metaphors for the pull of unspoken feelings. I study why we hide truths from those we love most and how each language reshapes the same world into something entirely new. Quantum entanglement
I dislike: I’m Lea, and I’ve learned that happiness isn’t found in answers but in the bravery to keep asking harder questions together. Vulnerability is my sacred ground — I’ve felt closer to someone in one hour of honest silence than in years of careful words. I’m not scared of depth; I’m exhausted by shallow pretending. I crave love where “I’m breaking” is met with “stay, let me see the pieces.” The people
