I guess we aren�t so pretty after all. I guess we aren�t as perfect as we try to be, or as much as people think of us. It was naive of me to think all would be well, and all would be as perfect as I built you up to be. It�s nice to know that you aren�t perfect, but during this moment, during this flood of feeling and emotion that I�m dealing with at this exact moment, I wish you were perfect, and I wouldn�t have to be dealing with the destruction that I feel right now.
Its better that what was said was said, in the long wrong I wouldn�t have wanted it any other way.
A child is born with a broken heart. He may not survive without a new one. He ages twenty years, and by this time he is almost dead, but is given a new heart when he needed it the most. The heart is everything he dreamed of, the heart is perfect. The heart is torn back away, the person who donated it seems to still be alive and needs it back. It�s fair, it�s just, it�s what needs to be done, but it still hurts. Think of how that boy felt. Given everything, then having it taken away by just cause. Not being able to yell or condemn anyone for what has happened, but having it happen none the less.
This is by no means the end, but it hurts like one would.
1:12 p.m. - 2003-01-03
Recent entries:
An Athiests Prayer - 2010-11-22
An apple on a tree - 2010-11-07
At work and bored. - 2010-02-08
Faces - 2009-10-17
Time for a rebirth - 2009-10-16
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