I want to have a boyfriend but I keep entertaining myself with boys walking in and out my bed, chaining one with the next.

I want something more than one night stands, then you tell me to meet again and I, again, find infinite excuses to extend the situation. 

I want to take you out to the cinema but when you touch my hand I recriminate you saying that you are going too fast. 

I want something serious but I always think that something better is just around the corner.

I want to keep seeing you but I reject each one of your proposals while I keep assuring you, that’s true, that when you least expect it, I will knock on your door.

I want to mature but I’m still the same.

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