I have nothing to say. That t-shirt floats here. A cataract of reason if not good-taste. "Actions speak louder than blogs." I couldn't agree more. Felt so good to hurl that laptop off the roof. Sounded so right to hear it splinter, shatter, scatter like the fatal collision that proceeded it.
I find that I prefer it when I don't speak.
I've basked in and endured a myriad of responses to essays here (in writing or life) and I can honestly say that I try of myself sometimes. I feel it coming. My own dismay at my own spin, my own happy-happy-joy-joy crap. When the truth be told I can't always find the positive learning lesson behind every slap in the face, smack on the ass, turn-me-inside-out-why-don't-you golden moment brought to me today by the letters F and O-Lord and at least a triple X. Before my dismay turns to disgust, I try to forget my password.
If I were self-righteous and always right, would you still be with me?
I think the most honest relationship I've ever had is with Christ and strange as it sounds He doesn't seem to give a fuck whether or not I use a swear or slang or ancient Greek with bad pronunciation. Strangely, He doesn't seem to care as long as I'm honest with Him. More honest than I am with myself. He doesn't get hung up on the lexicon of this urban grrl just trying to vent, just trying to keep it real,just trying to really *talk* to Him.
I still dream myself there. Though not always with you.
I really do have nothing to say. No more, at least, for now. The maze of blame is always concentric circles and mob mentality blends so nicely with popular belief for a little salt in the wound. We will always believe what preserves ourselves. The proof is not in the pudding, which so many of us will eat double-helpings of, but in which one of us bends first.
You will allow the baby to be torn in two.
She will offer you an olive branch three times... before you betray her again.
