You've never thought about hurting yourself. Congratulations, me neither. But unlike me, you hurt yourself (you do it anyway, despite not thinking about it hardly ever).
So what I'm trying to say is that (while I don't understand your motivations) I understand you. You fell off that swing in second grade just to get some attention. You went out with that boy in ninth to fill the hole in your chest. You crashed your car into a tree so your father would talk to you. See? You probably didn't know why you did it at the time.
But it's ok.
I've never loved you any more than this moment. Now, let's get you to a hospital.
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Hmm. This is weirdly sweet. It reminds me of, well, everything. I'll explain that later, when I have more time. If you care to know.
ReplyDeleteDoes it? Oh, dear. I do try so hard not to write things that mean anything. Ha ha ho ha.
ReplyDeleteBut everything means something, doesn't it?
ReplyDeleteI hope not. If everything has to mean something . . . too much meaning.
ReplyDeleteSome things should get to be petty and fun.
Of course you would say that.
ReplyDeleteStill . . . petty and fun is a meaning of sorts, isn't it?