My hands are cold but I've got the warmest heart, out of my mouth spills cliche' ideas and humble words. I can not change this, I can not change myself I can't look down when I"m always looking up. I am a hopeful, I am a romantic, and I strive to defy cynicism. I am searching for a path off of this misanthropist one. I want to find the good in you again, I want to bury myself inside of your heart and keep you warm on these cold nights, and make your smile stretch from horizon to horizon.
I hate writing research papers on love, especially when I'm so far from the one I crave. Damn you Plato and Diotima, you can take your Eros elsewhere.