I picked a bunch of flowers for you, you said they were ugly and threw them on the ground. You said they were plain boring and the same as all the other flowers, he only liked things that were different. He was right, so I took them home and put them in my closet so they would rot. 1 week later I took them out and gave them to him. Like my eyes, they were black and shattered. He loved them.
I asked him if he loves me and he said I am to plain. I agreed with him and went home, that night I cut my chest just to colour myself. He loved it, he said I was beautiful.
But where are his cuts and bruises? Or have I got enough for the both of us?