and so he wanted me back. and so we're trying to make it work again. and i still have no idea how to be a girlfriend. sometimes i think my writings ruined my relationships. indeed, my words carry too much pressure. they are always demanding. because they have dug a way out of my heart's deepest depth, and it must be scary to walk all the bloody way back there. some boys can't take it. it is simply too much.
boys want everything light and sweet, like a feather or a kiss. but i write love poems. or when i am sad i write long proses of agonies. i am too much of a crazy person. everything about me is too much. too much.
but what am i supposed to do? this is the only thing i am truly good at. this is the only thing to ever make me feel truly happy, like i am someone. you know, unique and complete, somehow special. and honest.
otherwise i am just a small potato in a big big world.
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