Don’t ask me if I am doing good. I am never good. I am always torn. I am still a half dangling cigarette waiting to burn out. I always carry a tiny portion of sadness in my back pocket. I am feeling a whole lot of things together to have space for something as insignificant as being good.
If you ask about my feelings, expect an honest answer. If you want to get to know me, then expect to drown. If you want me to love you, then expect the intensity to burn down your guts.
I don’t do things halfway. I don’t have the patience for your games. If you want to be around then at some point, I will be too much. I will either love too much or be too melancholic or be too caring or be too dramatic.
I hope I don’t scare you away. I don’t mean to, but I won’t apologize for being myself. But I will try everything I know to be there for you. I will try to love you in all possible ways.
I don’t have many redeemable qualities, but I know how to stay. Or let’s say, I don’t know how to leave.
Will you walk with me?