I know myself pretty well…I know I can’t write the words that express how I feel. If I did own those skills, then my words would make time stop between you and I. As you read those words, seconds would become hours and you would fall into a beautiful daydream. A daydream where you give me your attention and actually see me for the first time in a long time; the love you have for me matches up with the love I have for you. You’ll be in that beautiful daydream that you use to live in with me before the day you got bored of it and left. If I had those words, I’ll write you a letter every day to remind you just how magnificent and mysterious you are to me and how you been all my life; that I’m vulnerable and exposed in front of a well-guarded you but I can’t help by lean into your side and be held by you. For you are my beautiful daydream who no longer wants to dream with me. An occasional small talk is all you do nowadays for your wonder and curiosity of me has died away. My love has grown and I cry when I’m away from you. You hold me and kiss me like a child and tell me you would come back to me one day. Yet if I had the words to tell you how I feel, you’ll finally see what you mean to me and what you do to me. You’ll see the power you have in breaking my heart. You’ll see how I love you. If I did have those words, maybe after all this time, you would finally truly see me and remember the person you once loved.

My heart is bleeding out to you and all you can do is hug me, comfort me. For we both know that my arms are helplessly open wide while yours are crossed and rebuffs to let loose. I could recite the most romantic words into your ears or hold you with all the strength I could muster, yet you remain with your eyes purposely close. I stand, fallen, for my devoted heart bleeds a little more.

Brother: (Grabs The Dog)

Me: Hey, don't grab the dog, she injury.

Brother: (Doesn't Listen)

Me: (Talking To Dad) Dad, he touching the dog. Tell him to stop.

Me: Let's go out. I'm so bored.

Sister: No.

Me: Why not? There's nothing to do.

Sister: Do your homework.

I was playing a game where you get attacked a lot by monsters. The game gave you options whether you wanted to attack or talk to them. I tried to remain a pacifist and decided to talk. It would then give you the option to flirt or compliment. If the flirting didn’t work, you would have to compliment and same thing goes to complimenting. My friends were watching me play.

Friend: You’re using flirting a lot.

Me: It works better than the compliments. It makes the monsters go away.

Friend: (Smirking) You flirt a lot.

Me: Hey, it works.

Friend: (Jokingly) In my culture, we call that a “hoe.”

Friend: You’re a scrub.

Me: What? What’s a scrub?

Friend: (Googles definition) A scrub is someone who always talks about what they wants but just sits on his broke ass. Yeah, basically you.

Friend: So what did you think of the Strawberry Cheesecake Blizzard from DC? Isn't it good?

Me: Umm...it was alright. I didn't like it that much.

Friend: What?! What do you mean? It was so good.

Me: Yeah, it was good but I wouldn't order it again.