They're gonna cry over us. They already do.

N so she woke up havin her shoesies in mind. They occupied pretty much of her world right now. Young, fresh but no innocent a creature she was, for her, even scantier than mine silhouette, contained cruelty, ruthlessness with a more than a dash of kinky behaviour at times. Irresistibly quick in witty response. Frankly speaking, the none of us has ever felt the need of a large ensemble of devotees. From time unknown, however, was it sufficient for us to notice their sight on us, drinking our flair and sartorial off our personages. I was happy. As simple as this statement sounds. Ever since I remember, I was cheered up by the mere idea that I got to know her. Not him, not other her, either. It was, has always been, is and will have been her. We needed no audience. We were and still successfully, undisturbingly are self-sufficient and compatible with each other. I was once wondering, why os it so that I happened not to have the most extolled 'life' as they advertise it on tv. So simple an answer doesn't come so often to you-it's because I had more interesting things to do. She enjoys my creations that I manufacture in a frenyzy; I will owe her havin the argument, shaping my very self, wystawiac mnie na proby till the dawno of my life [which, presumably, we will spend together]. Never was she superficial to me. Neither was I. The blasphemy about 'the supposed perfect half' is not so exaggerated when fitted on us. A whole lot more yet to come and praise, but no mood for thereof whatsoever as for now.