I told him I was a writer and was rewarded by the sparkle of interest in his eyes.
He didn’t want a normal girl, an artist girl, or a musical girl, he wanted something different.
I wonder if when he saw me, he thought, “Aha! A writer.”
He only saw one thing, one hobby, and one talent, and that was his own downfall.
He saw me as only a writer, and I am so much more.
Perfectly Imperfect Me 