Entry 3: The Opposite Of Stars Is All I Ever Are

I cannot be anything else but other than what I am. If that makes me lifeless and empty to some and useful to others then here I shall stay. Here with the worms in the earth or with the birds in the sky, take your pick, I'm still deciding on mine. What's left of me shall be yours for the taking. Or dissceting. Whatever fascinates you the most. No pages of wit or reason can fufil the need for others to compare me. I am not them; never will be them; nor like them. They are vermon that fills my veins unwelcomedly. If I am never that girl of your dreams, your enemy, your wife, your one night stand, your confidante, your lifeline, drug of choice, sunshine, I will not hold that against you. But I may hold it against myself. If I stay here. Alone. But I'm not that girl either.
I am not perfect but I am perfect for being me. Inside my head, with the living. Outside with the dead. From my own private prison that I created and only let you in when I feel like it. When I need it. Need to. But you don't nuture me. I don't need you. Or do I.
I like your smile. It makes me smile. If I didn't see it everyday, somehow, I may sufforcate. I want to lie under the stars with you if you want to lie under the stars with me. I'm not perfect but this is all I have. I'll wait for you if you'll wait for me.