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Description
I am made of paper and lies and rotten piano keys.
Last time I checked, I was studying your least favorite major. I'm scared of money, I don't really know why. Maybe I'm nervous that I'll end up lost somewhere in another country, alone and scared,

and you, holding my hand.

i mean, what the hell? do you make me fearless? do you make me brave? you make me talk myself to death, that's for sure. but i make you talk, too. i make you embarrass yourself and shy and sheepish and you make me strong and dominant and arrogant and sometimes you make my heart beat a little too fast.

and that's when i say that i love you, and that i don't need to hear it back.

you make me feel like i'm made of smoke and dreams, and you're made of rocks and real things like scissors and fingernails and hoop-earrings. but i guess that's why i think we fit together. because you're real, and i'm not. and that's okay. that's why i love us. that's why i love you, because you're real, and possibly everything i'm not. opposites don't attract. we do.

do you believe in reincarnation?

i like to pretend that in the past, i was a pirate and you were a princess and i kidnapped you and you just accepted it because even princesses' like a little bit of adventure and suspense. you were a prisoner and i was the executor, but i would secretly give you treats at night and you told me you wouldn't mind my killing you because my hands were so soft that it probably wouldn't hurt. i was soldier and you were the enemy, but i fell in love with you, so i let you live and we ran away together into a nearby village where war wasn't real and our families weren't real and the people weren't real, but we were. and we made everything else real.

or maybe it's the other way around.

i want to drink wine with you and wrap us up in my quilt and watch a movie with you but actually just kiss you because i don't even really like movies that much.
i am super fucking hungry.
and here i am, starving myself. i am so

very

fucking

stop. i just want to think about

um

hoop earrings. and fingernails and
shears?

scissors, right. and i make myself super uncomfortable sometimes. i also wonder if i make you uncomfortable, but then you just fall asleep. i heard this song a little while ago and it made me think of you. i can't be with just any
one. and i think that hurts a little bit. but that's okay. because it's real. everyone tells everyone else that it isn't. but. it's real. that feeling. if you left, there would be this vast

fucking

just

emptiness.

are you in control? or is it me?
i guess what i'm getting at is that all i need in order to be happy is you

-r

happiness.

and don't tell me that sounds silly, because i wrote the book on silly. i made up the lovegame, honey. i invented the world 'beautiful'. i invented the color blue so that you could have eyes. i invented how passion feels, so i could understand why it is you make my head lull and my eyes heavy and my lips curve into a constant smirk, even when i'm unhappy. i invented my own hands so i could feel how soft you are. i invented fucking everything for us, but the one thing i forgot to invent was
us. you know?

of course you don't.

so fate took my masterpiece and put it on the east coast and told me 'you want it so bad, go fucking get it.' and all i can think about
every

fucking

stop.

and you tell me you need proof.

Description
I am made of paper and lies and rotten piano keys.
Last time I checked, I was studying your least favorite major. I'm scared of money, I don't really know why. Maybe I'm nervous that I'll end up lost somewhere in another country, alone and scared,

and you, holding my hand.

i mean, what the hell? do you make me fearless? do you make me brave? you make me talk myself to death, that's for sure. but i make you talk, too. i make you embarrass yourself and shy and sheepish and you make me strong and dominant and arrogant and sometimes you make my heart beat a little too fast.

and that's when i say that i love you, and that i don't need to hear it back.

you make me feel like i'm made of smoke and dreams, and you're made of rocks and real things like scissors and fingernails and hoop-earrings. but i guess that's why i think we fit together. because you're real, and i'm not. and that's okay. that's why i love us. that's why i love you, because you're real, and possibly everything i'm not. opposites don't attract. we do.

do you believe in reincarnation?

i like to pretend that in the past, i was a pirate and you were a princess and i kidnapped you and you just accepted it because even princesses' like a little bit of adventure and suspense. you were a prisoner and i was the executor, but i would secretly give you treats at night and you told me you wouldn't mind my killing you because my hands were so soft that it probably wouldn't hurt. i was soldier and you were the enemy, but i fell in love with you, so i let you live and we ran away together into a nearby village where war wasn't real and our families weren't real and the people weren't real, but we were. and we made everything else real.

or maybe it's the other way around.

i want to drink wine with you and wrap us up in my quilt and watch a movie with you but actually just kiss you because i don't even really like movies that much.
i am super fucking hungry.
and here i am, starving myself. i am so

very

fucking

stop. i just want to think about

um

hoop earrings. and fingernails and
shears?

scissors, right. and i make myself super uncomfortable sometimes. i also wonder if i make you uncomfortable, but then you just fall asleep. i heard this song a little while ago and it made me think of you. i can't be with just any
one. and i think that hurts a little bit. but that's okay. because it's real. everyone tells everyone else that it isn't. but. it's real. that feeling. if you left, there would be this vast

fucking

just

emptiness.

are you in control? or is it me?
i guess what i'm getting at is that all i need in order to be happy is you

-r

happiness.

and don't tell me that sounds silly, because i wrote the book on silly. i made up the lovegame, honey. i invented the world 'beautiful'. i invented the color blue so that you could have eyes. i invented how passion feels, so i could understand why it is you make my head lull and my eyes heavy and my lips curve into a constant smirk, even when i'm unhappy. i invented my own hands so i could feel how soft you are. i invented fucking everything for us, but the one thing i forgot to invent was
us. you know?

of course you don't.

so fate took my masterpiece and put it on the east coast and told me 'you want it so bad, go fucking get it.' and all i can think about
every

fucking

stop.

and you tell me you need proof.