I read in one of my psychology books once,
That when people know things about you,
Like random stuff or facts,
That they seem to get more attached,
Before I read it I never showed anything,
Let along tell,
Why would I even bother,
It was not like I am an interesting person or anything,
But well what was the hurt in trying right?
So I started to say these things that define me like...
How I love socks with glitters or dots,
And that I love the writer +John Green,
How I like to sing under the shower as the biggest +Taylor Swifties in the world,
Or that I have more hats then sunshades,
All that kind of stuff...
And as stupid as it sounds,
It seemed to work,
For it was not only about me saying something,
Or opening up a bit more to someone,
It was because things like that come up spontaneously,
And you can laugh about them...
Yet the most beautiful was when,
I told you once,
That in Germany was the best pizza I have ever had,
And we went there together,
Yet the store was different, Other owner.. Other pizza,
And even though it was an unverifiable fact now,
You still bring it up sometimes,
Making me smile,
For you still remember every tiny detail,
Of our days...
Even now when we've walked away...
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