Far Out

I used to be a hopeless romantic. I am still a hopeless romantic. I used to believe that love was the highest value. I still believe that love is the highest value. I don't expect to be happy. I don't imagine that I will find love, whatever that means, or that if I do find it, it will make me happy. I don't think of love as the answer or the solution.

I think of love as a force of nature - as strong as the sun, as necessary, as impersonal, as gigantic, as impossible, as scorching as it is warming, as drought-making as it is life-giving. And when it burns out, the planet dies.

He doubted her. You must never doubt the one you love.
But they might not be telling you the truth.
Never mind that. You tell them the truth.
What do you mean?
You can't be another person's honesty, child, but you can be your own.
So what should I say?
When?
When I love someone?
You should say it.

- Lighthousekeeping by Jeanette Winterson

Stunning.

-

Let go and rebuild.
Start from scratch, treat him no better than the next girl you see.
He's a pig, a boar, a swine.

The Boy calls, and the greeting is kookysweet (because, well you know, he is That Kind of Boy) which in turn switches on a grin (because he is The Grin Inducer).

Traitor.

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 27, 2008 at 9:13 am. You can skip to the end and leave a response.