How strange to let a word become completely what it is, letting its lineage speak for it's use.

He was good.

She was bad.

He was angry,

She was a *****.

I am a good mother.
I am a bad husband.

So we turn the word into bland and indisputable fact.

You hurt me.

You love me.

I am afraid of you
I want you.
I know you...

What does the knowing feel like?

Will it ever come?
If i am unsure if i am good and bad, how shall i make my mind up about the rest of the world?