Love was an idiot thing. I begin to wonder if it existed solely to cause me suffering. I use to want to love so much, and now I see how foolish I was. Maybe love would be better if I hadn't fallen in love with a living legend. A very hot and young living legend, with EVERY girl (and some guys) around the world on him.
Robin. Every teenage girl wanted him. Why would he choose me? He wouldn't and I wasn't about to go up to his and propose my love for him like so many girls did a day. I wasn't going to try and touch him or guilt him in to loving me. One thing I was going to do was hide in the shadows and watch him be swept away, not even spearing me a thought.