i wanted to ask you, and not be girly, what do you really think of me. your friend told me once that you thought i was the prettiest girl you knew, I wonder if it's still true now that you know so many girls (as well as your own beauty)...and do you sometimes want to kiss me when we're just looking at each other because i sometimes want to kiss you. i wonder if you think i'm interesting or exciting and if you really think i'm a dumb blonde or just tease me cos you think the way my face scrunches up is cute....

and i wanted to ask you the same thing, because you told me once that i was beautiful, and i don't feel like i see you enough to ask you the truth, without ruining whatever wonderful plans we have. you said you could eat my lower lip, it was your favourite thing about me, but i always loved your eyes. i feel like you've seen too much of me to really care either way about me, but i also wish you could see how desirable i am sometimes...

a large black fellow drove me home last night, and he fed me lines, but i knew he thought i was something different, something new, something else, or something special.

my biggest fear is that i've turned into that horrible cliche, the girl who is attatched to guys because she has no real bearing of her own, and after it's all said and done, she cries into the real love's chest and shows him her true self, beyond the tough, sexy vixen...does he realize how sensitive and beautiful she is, or is it reality and does he get disgusted and get into his car and drive away, feeling like he owes her something because he has no explanation?