You fall in love with pretty girls with pretty faces and pretty hearts. The hearts that never decline you, and that never stop believing you, because the love is so distinctly reciprocated. You fall in love with girls that are emotional, excitable, revivable, from the pain they've been through because you've been through it too, and so your love is expressed within the words you assertively argue and the experiences that you share as a sign of overcoming the tribulations that had once occurred in your life but that I would like to think occur no more. I will not say I take responsibility, but these pretty girls with pretty faces and pretty hearts are overly succumbing to your perfections but not to your flaws, your downfalls nor your shortcomings. These pretty girls with pretty faces and pretty hearts you find are too innocent to discover your mistakes in the consequence of your slump, the empathy you share is merely pity for one another whilst victimising a perpetrator whom was once a significant other. I do not know you nor will I ever claim to know you, as you are in attainment of a history I am oblivious to and have not witnessed. Capability cannot be predicted regardless of how much it may be perceived I comprehend you, or rather, the character that you have constructed.
