Why don’t we love ourselves like we love our shoes?
My converse… these are shoes that have been places and seen things and carry on…. in my opinion they look more beautiful now that they are worn…. the stains and cracks….
Understandable to be sad when they get too worn. Too old.
But don’t start hating them… continue to love them and want them to last just a little bit longer… till finally you have to let them go.
/* I got up and left. I quit. Sent him my polite little resignation and excused myself. Thanked him for the opportunity and as I walked out; flames. */
She was wearing a white dress. Behind her they stare watching, or at least she pretends they do, she’s not turning back to check, not turning back at all. She throws the forms in the recycling ben, won’t be needing those anymore, won’t be getting no special health plan, how much health coverage covers standing up for yourself? Not much. Suck a dick dipshits. That’s what they said but in the singular and not with such ‘vulgar’ language. You see now I’m just going to buy you somethings and touch you in ways that make you feel uncomfortable. But just suck it down and put up with a brave smile – we’re paying you to smile after all
WELL NOT ENOUGH SHIT HEADS! EAT IT!
So with fingers blazing like the now iconic pocket cat, she storms on a silent wave across the wires severs connecting messages sending.
Won’t be seeing her around no more.
Cuz boots were made.
Because people kill themselves every day.
And I just keep playing and playing
like it’s no big deal.
Like I’ll actually find
a way out.
(only a dead you will make me happy)XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
click to reset password