It is always me, who has to go back and come back sad, but still pleased. I just want to stay. I can’t play this game anymore. Just take me or deny me. I am too young for you to play with my emotions.

They are all different. They all beg and act like they are happy, but they don’t understand. In the beginning I was loved like an antique glass, but in the end we are all antique glasses waiting to break or be taken back and be ignored.