<b>I want love Comics. I do. I mean we go so great together.
I mean.
I like-like comics, you know?
I French kiss Comics all the time, and give back rubs (I'm like the king at back rubs)
Some times it's hard though.
Sometimes Comics doesn't listen. Sometimes, I swear, it's as if Comics are ignoring me. And I just sit there and take it.
Finally, when Comics does that thing with its mouth while eating, I freak out.
I tell comics how I feel. We start talk but it becomes a screaming match.
Next thing you know, Im crying and Comics is in the next room fuming at me.
I walk out of the room, with my things in hand, and just stare at Comics.
"Ok, I'm going to go"
Comics just stares into space.
Walking out, I hold back the tears expecting to hear Comics running down the street to hug me. No. It doesnt happen. On the bus, I cry about Comics.
It's not until the next day, that I love comics again. I sit up looking for Comics in bed, and Comics is not there.
I choke up.
Then I hear a knock.
There's Comics, arms out open, looking at me, as if pleading to take Comics back.
And I do.
You know, it's hard. And what people say about Comics and me.
But in the end.
I want to love Comics.</b>
<i><a href="http://sequentialheart.blogspot.com/" target="_new">For introduction of Sequential Heart, a blog forum composed by Mathew Jent</a></i>
I mean.
I like-like comics, you know?
I French kiss Comics all the time, and give back rubs (I'm like the king at back rubs)
Some times it's hard though.
Sometimes Comics doesn't listen. Sometimes, I swear, it's as if Comics are ignoring me. And I just sit there and take it.
Finally, when Comics does that thing with its mouth while eating, I freak out.
I tell comics how I feel. We start talk but it becomes a screaming match.
Next thing you know, Im crying and Comics is in the next room fuming at me.
I walk out of the room, with my things in hand, and just stare at Comics.
"Ok, I'm going to go"
Comics just stares into space.
Walking out, I hold back the tears expecting to hear Comics running down the street to hug me. No. It doesnt happen. On the bus, I cry about Comics.
It's not until the next day, that I love comics again. I sit up looking for Comics in bed, and Comics is not there.
I choke up.
Then I hear a knock.
There's Comics, arms out open, looking at me, as if pleading to take Comics back.
And I do.
You know, it's hard. And what people say about Comics and me.
But in the end.
I want to love Comics.</b>
<i><a href="http://sequentialheart.blogspot.com/" target="_new">For introduction of Sequential Heart, a blog forum composed by Mathew Jent</a></i>