Love is life, and life is living.
All people lie, and all people tell half-truths, and all people sugarcoat. While most people think there is something inherently bad about lying, there isn't necessarily something inherently bad about the last two. Sometimes it's justified, sometimes it's necessary, sometimes, in fact, it's right. It doesn't make you any more honest, and thus any more right, to be dreadfully negative and rude when the situation clearly calls for half-truths and sugarcoating.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
Every ounce of care in me that once lived for you, that suffered through the blows and shots that you took at the heart it lived in, every ounce, has finally died. And has been dead for a while now. I used to say hate is only a degree of love, but now I think sometimes hate is just the scar left behind when care is battered and bruised. As good as love is, hate feels better.
Can I come over?
As I was laying in my bed next to a sleeping man, staring at the 'March 25' on the calendar, I finally realized why I am incapable, despite my somewhat masculine mentality, of allowing a man to relieve my body of the tension that is rippling down my back and hardening in my thighs. Though I sometimes act like, think like, and quite often sympathize with the ideologies of a man, anatomically I am nothing like a man. To me, it's like houses. Most people don't invite just anyone into their home, because it's where you live, it's where all of your valuable possessions are stored, it's a huge part of your life. You need to get so know someone, know that they are trustworthy and honest, before they get invited into your house. Dissimilarly, though, if someone invites you into their home, there isn't as much discretion used. Normally, you go; it isn't as big of a deal. Unfortunately for me, I'm a homeowner. And this is why I haven't had a dinner guest in what could quite possibly soon turn into 8 months.
Say that you want me..
All people lie, and all people tell half-truths, and all people sugarcoat. While most people think there is something inherently bad about lying, there isn't necessarily something inherently bad about the last two. Sometimes it's justified, sometimes it's necessary, sometimes, in fact, it's right. It doesn't make you any more honest, and thus any more right, to be dreadfully negative and rude when the situation clearly calls for half-truths and sugarcoating.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
Every ounce of care in me that once lived for you, that suffered through the blows and shots that you took at the heart it lived in, every ounce, has finally died. And has been dead for a while now. I used to say hate is only a degree of love, but now I think sometimes hate is just the scar left behind when care is battered and bruised. As good as love is, hate feels better.
Can I come over?
As I was laying in my bed next to a sleeping man, staring at the 'March 25' on the calendar, I finally realized why I am incapable, despite my somewhat masculine mentality, of allowing a man to relieve my body of the tension that is rippling down my back and hardening in my thighs. Though I sometimes act like, think like, and quite often sympathize with the ideologies of a man, anatomically I am nothing like a man. To me, it's like houses. Most people don't invite just anyone into their home, because it's where you live, it's where all of your valuable possessions are stored, it's a huge part of your life. You need to get so know someone, know that they are trustworthy and honest, before they get invited into your house. Dissimilarly, though, if someone invites you into their home, there isn't as much discretion used. Normally, you go; it isn't as big of a deal. Unfortunately for me, I'm a homeowner. And this is why I haven't had a dinner guest in what could quite possibly soon turn into 8 months.
Say that you want me..
As good as love is, hate feels better.
ReplyDeleteThat is sooo true sometimes.
And that last paragraph? The analogy is simply PERFECT.