I don’t think I’m a wild thing. Like those girls that I write about. Like those girls who run with wolves and don’t wait for anybody. I’d wait all fucking day. I’d wait at a train station with flowers in my hands and I’d wait for the front door to open. I’d say that I love you first. I’d say it a hundred times before the words even left your lips. I’d stay. I’d look after you. I’d brush the hair out of your eyes. I wouldn’t be cold or indifferent or cruel. I’m not distancing myself from anything. I can’t. Maybe I admire the girls who run with wolves, maybe I want to be one, but today I’m not and I think that’s okay too.

(or maybe I am,  at least I've been told I am.. to most people anyway. I don't really know,  I guess I'm somewhere between the crossroads of the two of those,  and I think that's actually okay as well. )

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