Love does not insist on its own rights or its own way for it is not self seeking.
Love is not touchy or fretful or resentful.
Love takes no account of the evil done to it, it pays no attention to a suffered wrong.
Love is ever ready to believe the best of every person, its hopes are fadeless under all circumstances.
Relationships are complicated. People are also crazy and those people have relationships so it stands to reason those nutty nuts are going to embark on nutty interactions. They are, after all, reflections of one another, extensions of self, of how they each view themselves. That's why, thank the Lord, there are so many different kinds of people because some relationships I'd never have the patience for. My Grandma asked me what I thought of my best friend's husband and while I said I liked him alright if I ever ended up with a man like him, Lord have mercy.
We're too alike, he'd said to me when I told him of Grandma's comment.
Yeah, I'd agreed. I'd end up singing 'He had it comin' in the slammer because you pushed me too far and one day ended up choking on some poisonous sparkles.
Well, at least I'd get creative about it.
Some people inadvertently or by choice develop codependencies. They learn to rely so heavily on one another that they are incapable of functioning alone and are frightened of the possibility of being apart. Often they check in with one another more times than they do anything else throughout their days and they're satisfied in that ongoing connection. They have nothing that separates themselves from their counterpart, no financial accounts, no email, no hidden practices of any kind. In some extreme cases they may even compose emails and text messages together.
Why reply to someone with your own candid honesty when you can have someone censor it for you? Who wants their constitutional rights of freedom of speech anyway when you can have someone else take all the pressure away? I mean, it really is exhausting having to actually deal with self, all the complex, inconsistent layers and sort through them all and deal with the reality of all you're trying to bury.
No way.
That's too much.
Best to just keep that leash on tight, I mean, it's what you deserve anyway, right?
Excuse me, it's what you prefer, I should say.
Imagine being in a relationship of respect, freeing, trusting respect.
What would that even look like?
Respect:
to hold in esteem or honor;
to show regard or consideration for: to respect someone's rights.
to refrain from intruding upon or interfering with: to respect a person's privacy.
The saddest thing to me is when people live their lives in cages and never keep their eyes open long enough to see the bars. Somehow, through Divine intervention, I had managed to break free from the several prisons that had tried to enslave me. And being now on the other side, I wished I could pick the lock on the doors of those desperately wanting to break free.
But you can't help those who won't admit the truth.
And sometimes even when someone has awakened from their comatose state, seeing all that is can overwhelm and they might believe they can easily fall back asleep.
But once awakened, the idea of going back to comatose is too unbearable.
People say that's normal, that's to be expected, that's how it must be, he tells me.
Ahem, I'm sorry, but people?
Normalcy is an illusion.
Wouldn't you prefer genuineness, any day?
Wouldn't you prefer what is real, truthful and frighteningly captivating?
What's normal is not craving the thing that screwed up your life up in the first place.
Normal is choosing the choice you're failing to convince yourself you want and not sending out SOS messages to someone who sees through your transparency.
Words are tired, give me action anyday.
I always judge a man by what he does, his words are hollow.
Tell me again how much you don't want a take two and I will flash you a knowing look of condescension.
You are possibly crazier than I am.
I've met my match.
And I'm cautious.
He knew what I was gonna do before I did and somehow the feeling is mutual.
Be careful, friend or you'll take me out with you.
I'm no good when it comes to my heart.
Satan knows my weakness and it ain't chocolate.
A friend told me, He turns into a different person when he talks about you.
And it made me think: which one is the real one?
And does he even know.
Words have an uncanny ability to lose themselves on the lips of those misusing them. They like to hoard their favorites and muddle them around in their mouth, letting them soak for awhile, raping them of all their meaning, until all that remains are fragments of all that never was.
Those are the ones to be wary of.
And somewhere exist those who see the truth in all real relationships; those that embody love, respect and trust. Those that are freeing.
Those that release.
Trust:
Reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety of a person or thing; confidence.
The saddest thing to me is when people live their lives in cages and never keep their eyes open long enough to see the bars. Somehow, through Divine intervention, I had managed to break free from the several prisons that had tried to enslave me. And being now on the other side, I wished I could pick the lock on the doors of those desperately wanting to break free.
But you can't help those who won't admit the truth.
And sometimes even when someone has awakened from their comatose state, seeing all that is can overwhelm and they might believe they can easily fall back asleep.
But once awakened, the idea of going back to comatose is too unbearable.
People say that's normal, that's to be expected, that's how it must be, he tells me.
Ahem, I'm sorry, but people?
Normalcy is an illusion.
Wouldn't you prefer genuineness, any day?
Wouldn't you prefer what is real, truthful and frighteningly captivating?
What's normal is not craving the thing that screwed up your life up in the first place.
Normal is choosing the choice you're failing to convince yourself you want and not sending out SOS messages to someone who sees through your transparency.
Words are tired, give me action anyday.
I always judge a man by what he does, his words are hollow.
Tell me again how much you don't want a take two and I will flash you a knowing look of condescension.
You are possibly crazier than I am.
I've met my match.
And I'm cautious.
He knew what I was gonna do before I did and somehow the feeling is mutual.
Be careful, friend or you'll take me out with you.
I'm no good when it comes to my heart.
Satan knows my weakness and it ain't chocolate.
A friend told me, He turns into a different person when he talks about you.
And it made me think: which one is the real one?
And does he even know.
Words have an uncanny ability to lose themselves on the lips of those misusing them. They like to hoard their favorites and muddle them around in their mouth, letting them soak for awhile, raping them of all their meaning, until all that remains are fragments of all that never was.
Those are the ones to be wary of.
And somewhere exist those who see the truth in all real relationships; those that embody love, respect and trust. Those that are freeing.
Those that release.
Trust:
Reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety of a person or thing; confidence.
Confident expectation of something; hope.
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