Do not fall in love with a writer, because he is already in love with his fictional women with their exotic names -- Rayne, Poppy, and Lana -- and pure bodies. Perfect, never tired, always cheerful.
He will write about Lana and Poppy and Rayne, but not about you. You are too real. Because he cannot control you, because you go way beyond his comprehension.
You are simply too real. He will not touch you, because he will not get to choose what your skin will feel like -- soft or calloused? -- or what it will smell like -- vanilla or freesias or bananas? -- or what shade it will be.
He will not pick the colour of your hair or the length or type. He won't get to pick your smile, or your laugh.
Do not fall in love with a writer, because he will not love you back.
