From the first day I wrote about you, it had already shown how much of a vulnerable person I really am. The first word had broke open the hardest outer layer, and words that followed just ripped every layer of me to reveal the core, out in the open web, where people could read my feelings. My feelings for you, that I did not once regret to express.
That is what I am.
I could call myself an open book, but a book that’s hidden in a treasure box somewhere, where its location is marked X on a map that’s printed on a daily newsletter.
I want my feelings to be found, though I want my feelings to be sound.
To my surprise I was happy enough to have these mess of feelings to be appreciated by you.
Have a great day today.