I'm a crazy insecure girl in both morning and afternoon. I can't really eat. It's not sexy at all. I don't eat carbo anymore since 3 years ago. I drive way too fast to worry about cholesterol. In fact, I'm worried about so many things. I PMS. I overthink. I'm a control freak. I'm too well-prepared that almost makes me a pathetic dreamer. I'm so not an easy going kind of girl. People say I'm cynical. It's hard to make me laugh. People don't get my joke. I can't really talk. I don't have to say much unless I want to. But I'm bitching way too much about psychology shit. I can be mean toward you. You don't know how awful I was. You don't know how bad I can be. You're too good. You're too perfect. There is no one on earth who reference several geeky things and yet still looks so cool. You fit on almost everything on my long list of a perfect man that I wrote somewhere since around 13 (obviously it was a little bit of overkill).

And that's why I don't know why you like me. And that's why it's creepy.