Why, self, why?
Why do you go all sappy in romantic books even though you dislike the people at school who date?
Why do you actually have to keep reading all the cute scenes in your favourite books?
Why is life not a book?
Why do things in books always work out?
Why do you actually seem to be in love with a number if characters from works of fiction?
Why are you actually starting to like the idea of…love?
Why is what your heart is saying not what your mind is saying?
Why, why, why, self, why?