I think I’m going to melt, the mere sight of your cobalt irises, spiked with daggers of green, the ringlets of your golden, honey colored hair, the silk of your dress falling gently on the curves of your body as twirl and twirl beneath the ghostly white moon. If only I could pour my heart and soul, like water fro a pitcher, a shimmering mess of my emotions, into your hands, letting it seep between your fingers, if only I could show you how my heart trembles and weeps and breaks and swoons, if only you could see how your smile strangles me, if only you could see how this love ails me so, if only you could love me.
I’m a bit of a melodramatic fool; comes with the job, goes with the job, probably is the job. To blow everything incredibly out of proportions and to expect that a round peg fits into a square hole. One of these, I’m just going to give up and ram the damn peg into the hole, hell with fitting in, I’m out of place wherever I go. That’s that and that’s all there ever will be. I’m satisfied and oddly content with squandering the rest of my over analyzing Japanese anime. It’s a good life, what’s wrong with being independent? I’ll tell you what’s wrong, the world wants conformity, the world wants a nice square peg to shove into the nice square hole. Problems arise when the peg is round. What’s wrong with being independent? I’m not going to get what I want. Playing the game will set me free? I think not, I’ll just be dragged down, sink into the quagmire that is life. That’ll be that, my melodramatic fool. Farewell, farewell.