the writer a writer, eh? not really. but why? because i'm a hopeless romantic. taunt me. laugh like the hyena. do the hokey-pokey. pounce on me. tell me how hopeless i am... real hopeless. go ahead. that's fine with me...
or share some pity and feel my pain. isn't that him, the dying martyr? oh, the poor chap. look at his frail limbs and fragile soul. but no, no. you'd never say that.
because i'm just a freakin' writer who no one cares about.. do tell me if i'm wrong, huh. not that i care.