Why do we have this pathetic need of falling in love? Why do we act and even believe that’s something we can’t control it?
I don’t even think is called love. It’s just (just?) passion.
So then… we - or maybe that’s the part where it starts being “I” - start feeling clumsy and stupid.
And start projecting everything we wish and dream of in someone we don’t really know.
By the way… do we - now is really “we”- ever KNOW someone for real?
I like you.
I have no idea of what you feel about me.
I don’t even know if you feel any shit at all.
I guess I - yes, “I”, it’s all about me now - never will.
2 comentários:
PAIXÃO É FOGO MEU BEIN...
UMA HORA PASSA! EU ACHO :S
amém, irmão. amém.
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