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Maybe that’s just me…

…But I don’t like chocolate. I love pizza and McDonald’s, and I love eating out. I can’t cook. I think kitchens are good for coffee in the morning. Not that I drink much of that, either. It’s more the smell of fresh coffee that draws me in.

I like going out. A lot. I love clubs and music and dancing. And karaoke. Watching other people get embarrassed. I like tequila and lemon, combined, preferably. I like loud bars and crowded streets and wondering in the middle of the night. I like meeting some weird stranger and passing by. I like cars and noises and cab drivers that never shut up. I love the city at night and city lights at Christmas.

I like surprises. The kind that don’t cost, but sweep you off your feet. Like someone handing you a bouquet of flowers in a rush and then leaving you with a “thank you” unsaid. Like being kissed in the middle of a movie, just because the characters did it. Or like waking up with a rose on your pillow, and no one there.

I like “good mornings”, and I like the smile when it’s said right. I like to eat in bed. Chips and natchos and sauce and anything else crunchy that’ll go with a movie. I love to sleep and afford to sleep some more on my day off. I love making love to music and candles and drinking champagne in the bathtub.

I’m spoiled, and selfish and demanding. I make mistakes, and for some of them I’m not even sorry. I like not having to explain myself and sometimes I like explanations. I talk way more than I should and sometimes I say a lot of crap. Sometimes I don’t talk at all and some things I never say. I’m a brat, and I’m proud of it.

I have memories and gifts and rings and withered flowers that I hold on to and still wear. I have friends and people dear to me that I don’t want to let go. I remember every kiss of every ex boyfriend I ever had. I remember what people wore on random ocasions, or what they said one time, or more. I have flashbacks or I try to remember the things I don’t want to forget. Sometimes I feel or think things I don’t say out loud and I don’t believe that makes me hypocritical.

I rarely lie, but when I do, I have a reason. I hate being lied to, but when I am, I listen to the whys. I’ve probably meant less than half the mean things I ever said in my life, but who will ever tell which? I’m sarcastic, ironical, bitchy and snappy and each time I am I feel perfectly entitled to.

I don’t believe in second chances. When you blow it once, you’re bound to do it again.

…But hey…. Maybe that’s just me!

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