Hypothetically Typing

I have a lot of problems and considering all the sacrifices I come with and whatnot, I’m probably the pickiest person you will ever meet. I’d much rather die alone than settle and be unhappy, and I mean that with my entire little heart. I know what I want, I know how to get it, and I love the thrill of the chase. 

I enjoy word play and conversing with a witty son of a b****, and hypothetically speaking, I could probably make you fall for me if you happened to be my type. Actually you would fall for me on your own, and the only catalyst in triggering that effect would be the comments I make to every question you ask me. I’m kidding. I’m actually not that special. The only thing that makes me special is the handicap sign I so proudly wear. No, that’s a lie. I work with people who have about eighty-five years more education than I do, and yet I’m going to be the CEO that runs the sh**. Technically speaking, I’m not too shabby, and the very least I could do is make you say “WTF” with the circles I talk type in.

My guilty pleasure is a conceited bad-ass who’s clever as hell, and I’m kind of ashamed to admit that I have a thing for men who smoke. 

Also, I’m pretty sure I’m going to hell if I don’t change my ways soon.