Just my presence is intoxicating, they don’t even need a kiss. They already can’t get enough. And I get sick on their reactions, their inquiring and curious looks turn my stomach. Is it not blatantly clear that I’m dark inside, that I’m mere dust held together solely by the force of sheer will? How can this be what they want, out of everyone out there? How can they have a choice and choose wrong? I wretch with the stupidity and ridiculous nature of it all. Throw me a buoy, a lifeline, and I’ll still let myself sink. Those boys can’t stop me. What shocks me is: I can’t believe they would risk sinking with me.