Dianna, this is raw, unabridged, quick and short.
I’m always there for you. You confide in me and use me as your mental and literal punching bag. I help you see things in a different light. I make you feel special. I support you and your twisted crushes. I’m there for you in spirit when you’re at school. You whine to me about your insecurities. You cry to me about your schooling woes. You snap hideous photos of me. You make me cry with all your sweet fluffiness. You’re too rough with my guitar. You are the worst arm holder. Your parents are kinky, freaky bitches. You have such low self-esteem. You are insane, inane and inglorious. You make me write stupid corny things about you. You make me exasperated and talk to you like a five year-old. You’re making me bore any other person that may be reading this. And you’re just so Dianna-ish that this list will never end.
I like doing these things for you. It makes me feel all high and mighty. But there’s one thing that you do for me that would not make me myself otherwise.
You make me fun.
Imagine me without you, lol. I’d be the most emo bitch anyone has ever crossed.
(Barf! at the fluffiness of this all!)
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