Last night…I couldn’t even get an answer. Help me picture him at least. The problem was, I never had a type. Always just figured I would recognize him and know what to do when I saw him. I do know what his hands should look like.
By the way, don’t lie. Everyone knows you have a type. You’re just in denial because you hate the fact you have a type.
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About Me:
experimental stream of consciousness writer who may or may not be a liar. sanest person you've ever met but i'll look you in the eyes like a computer eating magnets. what i don't know about you, i'll make up. and you'll still love me because you don't know where i went that moment you swore i disappeared. my moods chase the seasons and i hear it makes an interesting read. i like smelling good.