You know the saying....
Since all other avenues have been explored, and all other possible excuses have been exhausted, the only explanation remaining - though not entirely plausible - is the repetition of past lives. As cosmicly crazy as it sounds, it has to be. Somewhere in history, a great injustice was committed, and I must be charged with "righting" the "wrong". On some distant plane, someone must have really fucked up, and for some damn reason, I'm the one responsible for picking up all the pieces, making some sense out of them (even though none of them fit together properly), and assembling them into some kind of presentable masterpiece. As we learned when Bobby played ball in the house, you can glue a shattered vase back together without anyone noticing...but fill it with water, and it's gonna spring a leak. And to top it off, Mom's gonna be pissed.
Being the bigger person doesn't FEEL bigger. It feels awful. Where it should feel empowering, in actuality, it feels like defeat. Where the cream should rise to the top, it instead turns to useless sediment, slowly drifting to the bottom and collecting in a pile of stagnant debris. The dark horse should wear the silver-lined blanket...but instead he's got a shotgun to his head because of a hangnail. Imperfections are rarely rewarded, but since when is stepping up to the plate an imperfection? They never told Babe Ruth, "Hey...714 isn't bad. But you're kinda chubby, so really, it's a wash. Try soccer."
It's not easy to be kind to those who haven't been kind to me. I also assume hitting 714 career homers wasn't real easy either. Some people just have a knack for certain things, I guess. Personally, I'd take 713 dingers if it meant no one would call me fat.
If you love someone, its quite possible they're not going to love you back. It's also entirely possible they don't even deserve your adoration, for whatever reason. Love them anyway. I suppose there's always a tube of waterproof glue somewhere, or a beautiful pitch with a sweet spot and your name on it.
Being the bigger person doesn't FEEL bigger. It feels awful. Where it should feel empowering, in actuality, it feels like defeat. Where the cream should rise to the top, it instead turns to useless sediment, slowly drifting to the bottom and collecting in a pile of stagnant debris. The dark horse should wear the silver-lined blanket...but instead he's got a shotgun to his head because of a hangnail. Imperfections are rarely rewarded, but since when is stepping up to the plate an imperfection? They never told Babe Ruth, "Hey...714 isn't bad. But you're kinda chubby, so really, it's a wash. Try soccer."
It's not easy to be kind to those who haven't been kind to me. I also assume hitting 714 career homers wasn't real easy either. Some people just have a knack for certain things, I guess. Personally, I'd take 713 dingers if it meant no one would call me fat.
If you love someone, its quite possible they're not going to love you back. It's also entirely possible they don't even deserve your adoration, for whatever reason. Love them anyway. I suppose there's always a tube of waterproof glue somewhere, or a beautiful pitch with a sweet spot and your name on it.
posted by Elle Dee at 6:36 PM
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