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I write poetry.
I wear shirts.
I'm affectionate.
I talk about my feelings.
I'm often very camp.
I'm expressionate.
I act.
I sing.
I listen to emo-rock sometimes.
I skip down streets.
I say "ooh!" when I'm excited at things.
I look good in a suit.
I eat salad.
I giggle.
I don't work out.
I love children and animals.
Forrest Gump made me cry.
I flirt with men, as well as women.
But I'm not attracted sexually or otherwise to men at all. I'm straight.
It's bizzare. It's like the father Christmas thing all over again. All I've been bought up to believe is wrong.
(Still bored?)
It's been a long day.
"Couldn't care less unless he was looking at my arsse with a raised eyebrow."
I'd look at your arsse, but I wouldn't want it. That's the difference. :0D
:D
Couldn't care less unless he was looking at my arsse with a raised eyebrow.
Either that, or there's something wrong with you.
You could do a trilogy, one mad, one sad, and one glad. Or rad, or bad or lad. Or even Brad's Girl's Love Song...
Or how about Emptying Buckets into the Ocean, or Jungle of Hurt, or I am a tall tree - all of which I just constructed from a poetry fridge magnet set I got last year :-)
And I'll go write something clever if you want, Mr Happy, might take a while. :0)
Ah! Give me a title. Like last time, because the thing I wrote with your title still is one of the best things I've written. Title me.