That's what I am. That's what I'm supposed to be. But why can't I just be?

I have a life. I am a person. I am not restricted to boundaries. I can do anything if I put my mind to it. No one can tell me who to be.

Yet that's what happening to me.

I'm listening to people I don't trust, don't need, and who don't care. They just tell me things I want to hear.

But I won't hear it from her.

Good things don't come around very often, and when they do, they're not free. What's in it for me? she asks. I have no answer. I own the lock and the key. I've taken so much and given nothing.

I should have seen it coming.

I live in my own world. No one can stay; they only pass through. I tell myself that if I stay in my world and keep to myself, no one could harm me. If that's true, why does she get to me like she does?

I want to be happy. But I don't know how.

I can have anything and everything I want, except what I really need: her. I can't buy her with money; cars don't amuse her; diamond rings are too heavy, according to her; roses and chocolates are overdone; what does she want then?

And do you know what she says?


She wants me.

That means more than anything in the world to me. When I'm with her, I don't have to fake it. I can be real. I got my baby.

So what is it like to be perfect?

Who cares?

I got it all. Her. That's it.

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