Wherever she goes and, When She's so depressed she can not talk by herself, I talk about her, I say Everything she wants you to know. I'm Exactly like her, but I'm not her. I Could say I'm her conscience, pero that's wrong, I am Just Who she wanted to be. That I'm the dream will never come true.
She Took My moods, my personality, my way to talk, my way to be ... Into and made me a shape, Gave me a body, Gave me a name. She made real me in front of her eyes. To her, I mean perfection. I'm Just Who She Wants to be. Could she love me and I Could love her, But that's impossible, 'cause She Does not love herself anymore, and I'm like her, but ... Does she want to accept it. She always says I'm her upper Than, buying a sandwich is not true.
Usually, she does not like to hear meThe Most of times, so she Does not talk in the Same tune Than Others, she's always on upper level. She always sounds like yelling and screaming.
She's smart and intelligent, she Makes What Others see hard easy. She Learns and remember everything, and She Does not forget it easily. Sometimes that's good, Sometimes That kinda sucks.
She always want to say something, she loves to talk and Give speeches ... But Sometimes she's very shy.
She's wonderful, she always try to do her best at everything.
And when to this is not enough, I inspire her to drain her anger using me, Then she starts to write about me, and she Reflects in me all her feelings, worries, troubles, anger ... When she writes, she makes me Suffer, she makes me bleed, sh
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