Texting you is as close to a crime as I'm likely to get, at least when it comes to the matters of the heart. I like to fool myself into thinking that there is no hidden agenda, but we both know how it really is. Don't know about you, but my heart skips a beat whenever I see your number.

Lying about you will most certainly get me in to the ninth circle of hell and I know they'll try to burn me with the shame I ought to feel. But the knowledge of all that pain doens't take away the feeling of being on cloud nine when I read your funny one-liners. I'm such a bad person with this terrible character, that I'll never regret sneaking around like this.

Plotting and sheming, crime lord mastermind, tangling myself up in even more lies. Anything for that rush, that tingeling in my stomach, anything to pretend that reality is something it's not. Another text, another email, holding my breath waiting for your answer. This might have gone on for far too long, but once a criminal, always a criminal.