In attempting to make her happy, I will be defeated, and thats obvious. I am not a happy man. I rarely laugh. And do not laugh for what people usually laugh. And the sense of happiness in me has been always wired for people around me. I am a real miserable man in social connections. I do not like to make a connection. Or I would say, honestly, I do not know how to make it. People are kind of so strange thing to me. I prefer to be with one or two people I am fine with. I will not be able to make her happy tomorrow I know. I do little things, small things, thinking that they would make her happy but I am wrong I know. I put her hand in my pocket when it is cold, I dance for her, so ridiculously to make her laugh, I play comic pieces, I write comic stories only for her, I plan for lots of pranks, normally unsuccessfully to make her excited, I buy wired gifts and invent lots of games that I think are interesting for her, but I always fail. It makes me sad, sadder. She will put her bag on the sofa and will take immediately a CD, possibly that of Mozart and will open it-with a high volume; and it will ruin me. She knows how and what to do to ruin me. And I will lose the sense of reality, Juliette observing. ...and will say; you naughty girl... cl.ly/ZNAN?_ga=1.241504454.573127290.1417375004
Posted on: Tue, 20 Jan 2015 00:36:54 +0000
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