note: i write more seriously, more akin to what’s below, elsewhere. please don’t mistake “seriously” for “with any sort of talent”. i try to keep that other place under some degree of wraps – if you’d like to see it, just email me or tweet me.

i’m just smart enough to know, by this point, that it doesn’t – that it didn’t – mean anything.

it almost never does. it took me a while to learn that. i bought into shit, when i was younger. i suppose we all did – it’s a function of youth.

don’t think that i don’t appreciate the night you told me i would be your perfect girl. but the truth is, you don’t know me. you know a crafted veneer. i’m glad you liked it – that’s pretty much exactly what i made it for.

i am not extraordinarily beautiful, but i am pretty enough and carry myself well enough, kindly enough, to let you think you’d have a shot. the truth is that you don’t, and you never would. i don’t say it to be cruel. i learned not to save people years ago. you still, however, have my kindness and sympathy. i know what it is to feel so removed. do not mistake my kindness for genuine affection. that is rarely given.

what i am is very far from your perfect.
what i was made for is far beyond lifting your veil.

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