I’ve been told that I’m not safe.
I’m too curious. I ask questions, and want to know everything. I peer into door cracks that weren’t intended to be left ajar. And taste things because I want to find out for myself. I get too close to things I shouldn’t touch, and sit on the utmost edges of cliffs. Then, I look down and wonder what lies below.
I’m loud. I’m friendly with strangers. I’m affectionate. Sometimes, I give hugs when we first meet. I can be naive. I smile big. I look intently. At times, I have no filter. I talk about dick, and pussy, and hearts, and feelings, sports, and more dick. I write about my feelings. And her feelings. Yours too.
I have fun. I’ll leave you for my friends. I’ll leave you for me. I’ll meet an old friend for drinks, or stay home alone just to read a book. I’m spontaneous. I have this blog. It inspires some, and terrifies others. People talk about me. Some know about me. But they never really know me.
Otherwise, they’d know that even though I may not be safe, you’d be safe with me.