I just don't think you can handle me. Emotionally. As much as you like me and all, you haven't seen the Other Side. The Scary Side. The side that's really me, when I'm alone and thinking about you. The side that wants to cling to you like a leech... no, maybe more like a child. Like a lonely child. I want you to shelter me, protect me, put an arm around me and hold me, against the world, against my enemies, against Life itself. I want you to care for me like my mother cares for me- without regret, or hesitation, unconditionally. And damn you, I want you to love me, too. I want you to throw yourself in front of a speeding train for me, dive off a cliff to save me, rescue me from a burning house. I want you to be my Superman. But I don't think you want to be that. I don't even know what you want me to be... maybe a trophy, like, "Hey, I have a girlfriend, see, physical proof!" Or maybe like a diary, "Dear Kerry, this was my day today..." Or maybe some kind of sex toy, when prostitutes are too expensive and the flesh is willing... I don't know what you want me to be. I wish you'd tell me, so I can hurry up and be it soon.
Readin'
Listenin' to
Thinkin' about
Most recently I was 
