Who ever who told you about me?
Did they also tell you
that I know nothing about them?
Apparently they saw me in public
and thought that I’m one of those people
who are always smiling.
They don’t know the real me.
I wish I could write the story of my life on paper,
and give it them so that they can read me.
Maybe that will make them start having
good conversations about me.
I hate people who talk about me privately
but say nothing when they see me in public.
I hate many friends because some of them
only come to you when they need something.
But when they are good, they walk far from you
like they hadn’t known you from the beginning.
I hate to pretend. I show you if I don’t like something
and after that if you hate me, I don’t care.
That’s your own decision.