pains and gains

How could a phone conversation ever make me feel this...certain? I sit with cold toes wrapped in sock and boot, not sure what I'm so happy about but I think it has something to do with the end of my watery kate nash days. Its hard to translate mixed love signals with painful cuts and jags  but at the end of the day, its nice knowing where I stand at the end of the fight. How am I suppose to know where anything will go? I don't even know when my next meal will be. I don't know what I want, but I know I like you. 

I have to admit however,  it does bother me,  when you tell me that I have small hands, it bothers me when you say the word cockroach, I hate you telling me I need to wear my retainer more often, and that what I eat isn't adequate. 

yes, thank-you, I know that I may seem small and meek, and would probably lose in a fight, and I'm not nearly as tough as I'd hope. I know I will never be a stand-up comic. I know getting scared of growing up seems silly and I don't read the newspaper as often as I should. I know I have nothing certain and my future seems bleek. 

Even after your constant reminders about how my life will blow, I still sit here in my Good-Will $5 robe, knowing that I like you, and I'm happy.