..it can’t be forced. At least, it can’t be for me. I have to be moved, have some feelings about something enough to write about it. Whether the feeling is good or bad. This is why I don’t think that I could be a serious writer.
Cooking and dancing makes it better.
Waiting for him.
To save me.
In my room,
I’m a ROCKSTAR.
Music is how my soul speaks.
Trying to write.
Nothing profound comes.
A GOOD guy,
with low expectations.
Late Night Love.
Late Night Heartache.
Why am I afraid?
Of JOY?
Flirting makes me feel sexy.
And powerful.
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Sarcasm+Cranky+Some seriousness+A little of nice=Me
