don't you try and psycho analyze me. There is nothing I hate more than people trying to tell me how I feel. You don't know me, you don't know my life, you are some random internet stranger who's been hitting on me for two months, and is now pissed because GOD FORBID, I don't think you're my type. You know shit about me, and don't you forget it. I have my reasons for my walls. I don't feel comfortable talking to you. That's something that either clicks, or it doesn't. It has to click. IF it clicked better, maybe I could have dated you, maybe something could have happened there. But it didn't, and I'm not, so please, for the love of fuck, stop trying to figure out what's wrong with me. You're not that good looking anyways. ~katie