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Good food and company went a long way toward making up for the fact that my uterus not only chose violence this morning, but committed wholeheartedly to the cause.
There’s a special kind of person who treats the people they’ve slept with like trash. As if having been intimate and vulnerable with them is demeaning. They’re the sort who sees a female’s righteous anger and labels her the mad woman.
“Did you know that there are three types of friends according to Aristotle?” I asked. Just making conversation. “Friendships of utility, friendships of pleasure, and friendships of the good.” Lars blinked. “Utility is when you’re useful to each other. Say, a neighbor or a coworker or a client. While friendships of pleasure are when you enjoy each other’s company. Like you and your hiking buddies, for example. You enjoy doing certain activities together,” I explained. “Whereas friendships of good are based on mutual respect and admiration. Shared virtues and goals. You may not have many actual
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liked to be liked. It was a failing of mine; being a people pleaser sucked. But at some stage, you have to accept that for some people you are never going to be enough. No matter what you do.
Though there was something about the colors of a storm, being surrounded by grays and blues. They were moody and comforting at the same time.
The heart was a fool and the vagina far worse.
“I can see why you’re friends with Lillian.” I smiled. “What’s your take on destiny or fate?” “I believe that great things lie ahead for all of us,” she said. “If we learn the lessons we need to and grow as we go through life.”
Like I could crash up against him as much as I liked. He made me want to write bad poetry. That was the truth.
“You cannot change them. Assume anything you don’t like is here to stay. The same goes for their friends and family.”
it’s the human condition to struggle for something better.
I’ve never been accused of being deep. My talents consisted of having great style and saying weird shit.
The storm raged outside, but I had lightning in my veins like my body was on fire. Thunder was the sound of blood beating behind my ears.
A long hot bath with a good book was what I needed. Of course, it tended to be the best answer eleven times out of ten.
Hurt made you take a step back from the world for your own protection.
“Hamlet is a total fuck-boy. I’m with him there.”
A light rain had started falling, filling the air with petrichor. Wet pine needles and mulch and rain was the scent of Seattle.
