i want you to want me; it's a simple fact that i have dreadfully been living with and have never had a way of disposing, because when i look into the mirror and see my speckled yet somewhat decent face, i still hope that i'm worth the shot. no, it's okay if you disagree, i could always regain some semblance of security from my childhood, when it was easier for guys to say that they like you and wrote you letters with misspelled yet tender words and gave cheap flowers on valentines—they did all those things as young boys not because they had any intention of being with you but just because they could declare that they liked you. no strings attached.
not that i have anything against strings. we fly kites by holding strings, tie presents up with string, play instruments with strings, and there's marriage, marriage, for heaven's sake, which is called "tying the knot." wow, that escalated quickly.
i think that by now i would seem a little crazy, but that's probably because i'm lonely, with a dose of tired.
are we entitled to be loved?