BringBackYamato

He is not an Edward. He doesn't stare at me every minute he is with me. Or smell my hair and watch me sleep. Won't follow me, like a lost puppy, Sometimes, he'll even walk away. He doesn't love me for my faults, It's in spite of them. He'll notice pretty girls, even think of past lovers… When he laughs at me, it's because I'm silly, Not cute Or Perfect. The thought of me getting hurt does not bring tears to his eyes. He would not die if I died, He is not an Edward. And I am not a Bella. We are real. Our love is real. And that, Is more important, and genuine Than idealistic, impossible fantasies. Screw Edward.

once i asked you your favourite colour, and you said, "the brown of your eyes," so i put in one green contact and told everyone that i came out of the womb as a factory defect, half-priced, damaged goods. - sometimes i am from canada and sometimes i am from england and sometimes i am from spain. i've carefully tempered my accents and plotted out my stories with yellow and purple coloured pencils on index cards. my origin changes like the seasons. "why do you lie to everyone?" you ask. "why not?" i reply. - i wear nametags that read "alicia" and "liana" and "samantha," because i want to know how it feels to be someon