Come on...
What do you mean you don’t hate anyone? Neither do I. But I strongly dislike those who take others delicate offerings and handle them like yesterday’s trash. You can’t see this delicacy with your eyes, therefore I cannot see the damage. But this girl is no cracked up 1930s handmade pottery bowl from the southern region of France. She’s not an old vase that means something to your long deceased grandmother, so that means it must mean something to you. no. Not even close. Her heart is shaped like a diamond and others act as though she’s a rock and doesn’t know the difference between sincerity and deception. you can spin around her disoriented mind until you get your desired result. Because you take confusion for consent. Because you don’t take I don’t know for an answer. But maybe I really don’t know. Maybe I’m pushing the world back. Denying gravity and maybe a loss of reality. Climbing dumpsters to see what’s good. What’s sealed up. What isn’t contaminated. It’s like looking for affection in a heart that has been walked all over. I sigh when you say you hate someone. Because hate isn’t only a word like (me, her, she) it carries its own legacy and mountainous cliffs of anger. Literally it is a word. But when you’re a dreamer you only think figuratively- yellow and the sunlight are the same thing.