I am a being comprised of letters, a character created by sentences, a figment of imagination formed through fiction.
A handful of letters doesn't always make a word, love.
It's the kind of kiss that inspires stars to climb into the sky and light up the world.
My words wear no parachutes as they fall out of my mouth.
And some days I wonder why I insist on keeping myself alive.
You are moody. It’s always ‘Shut up, Kenji.’ ‘Go to sleep, Kenji.’ ‘No one wants to see you naked, Kenji.’ When I know for a fact that there are thousands of people who would love to see me naked—