Sometimes, I feel like I would take anything that you had to offer me. It seems like you have so much to offer to the world, but so little to offer to me. And I've been here with you for so long, while the rest of the world has just passed by, without giving you a second glance. It's odd, isn't it? I've been waiting so long to see just a speck of your soul. I've been an open book, while you've hidden every bit of yourself, ever so carefully. I'm not sure what you're waiting for, but I know it's not me.