You're speaking to me and it's like watching a spool of unraveling madness. Every word you say is calculated, every inflection manipulative, every gesture intended to be persuasive. And yet it's utter insanity.

I smile and nod, because damn it, I'm a nice girl. But I'm not a stupid one.

Nice guys don't need to convince girls they're nice. Nice guys don't dictate to nice girls how we should perceive them.

Nice guys ask questions. Nice guys listen. Nice guys care, consistently and unwaveringly.

They're not here one second and then gone with the wind. They don't build you up just to knock you back down. They don't thrive on your confusion. They don't take advantage of your giving spirit.

I may be a nice girl, but here's what I'm not:

I'm not someone you can just fold up in the palm of your hand and place in your pocket to pull out whenever you need. I'm not a candle that you can just blow out the second you no longer desire my light. I'm not a hammock for you to lay your weight on when your legs get tired of carrying around your bullshit.

Because here's the thing; I'm a nice girl who will always be nice to myself first.