Monday, October 25, 2010


What is it that makes me love you?
What is it that makes me care?
What is it that makes me cry everynight that you're not there?

Okay, scratch that, I'm not going to get into some cheesy love poem that bores everyone around you until that list of people includes the one you wrote it for. Why can't people just say what they need to say? Well, if that's my advice, I guess you could call me a hypocrite; because I don't do that either. We all must be cowards on the inside, huh? No matter how strong a person may feel or seem, there's still that terrified little child inside that only seems to emerge when we're faced with what we called cooties when we were younger; because, somewhere in us, we all still believe in the fairytales.

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