Rock Paper Scissors

by Alice Feeney

My husband doesn’t cheat on me with other women, or men, he has love affairs with their words.

If every story had a happy ending, then we’d have no reason to start again. Life is all about choices, and learning how to put ourselves back together when we fall apart.

All people are addicts, and all addicts desire the same thing: an escape from reality. My job just happens to be my favorite drug.

But does that rule also apply to relationships? If we play the same characters for too long in a marriage, isn’t it inevitable that we’ll get bored of the story and give up, or switch off before we reach the end?

Affection is like playing the piano and you can forget how to do it without practice.

I wish people were more like books.

Enjoy the stories of other people’s lives, but don’t forget to live your own.

I do know that the lies we tell ourselves are always the most dangerous. And I know that sometimes the thoughts we hide in the margins of our minds are the most honest, because they are ours alone, and we think nobody else will see them.