Everybody run and hide... I'm the walking plague monster of boring preachiness, no wonder why people hate my guts. It should be obvious to me that people find it much easier to assume that I'm just simple little words typed up for their entertainment, instead of a gaint bag of unforunate events looking for a candle in a dark room. I only spill my guts so people can see them... not like they could have unless they're stalkers.
But who would care for this heart and soul so small, so cut off from reality, only to be left blinded by her own. Oh well... if worse comes to worse I'll just disappear, like Cheshire Cat, at leisure if nothing goes well. I can only be as open as the hand that reaches out.