I wrote to you ones. I wrote to you twice. All I can think of is you writing back to me. Well, that's not true. To be truthful, I hope we will stay friends. At least. But you are not the only thing on my mind. There's more. One thing is your penis. Oh, that was just an unpleasant joke. But that's my style. Maybe that's me. An unpleasant person. I don't think so, I would rather be an interesting person, which I think I am. A happy person. Almost all the time. Not just right know. Actually, I am. But I can be really awful, also. I just don't feel great to show it, anymore. I cant cry. I don't cry. That's not me. I mean, I can cry. I cry over things that matter to me, and I cry over movies that reach my feelings. But I don't cry over people the way I did before. I don't. I miss that time. Now I feel sad, but nothing comes out of me. That makes me wonder who I am at the moment, and what I am doing. What I'm not doing. I play. I do. I think everybody does. But I'm not used to it. I did not play. So to the question. Who am I today?