You know when you look at a word on the page, I mean really look at it, it suddenly loses all meaning?
Your vagina is not magical, your love is not a healing elixir, and if he hurts you now, it will get worse. 
I shoot him what I assume is a sexy smile, if a "Gary Busey on crack" smile can ever be considered sexy. 
Scars are not a disfigurement, they are a sign telling the world that you fucking survived whatever it was that tried to kill you. 
It might just be me, but I'm always worried I'll be stuck with a little dick every time I get naked with somebody new. 
It's like looking at the sun, I worry if I don't look away his image will be burned on my retinas for the rest of my life. 
I might look like a lame fucking creeper when I'm trying to flirt, 