When love serves you lemons? Do you say fuck the lemons and bail?? My problem is, I love lemonade. Both bitter and sweet, and I can make each taste comfortably delicious, while numbing the throat and vocal chords. Also paralyzing the brain. This, of course, makes putting up with the love served lemons more tolerable and adds an extra --insert time frame here-- to your relationship. Sometimes the added time proves itself to be useful, but in unfortunate cases, it only proves to be dreadful, drawn out and asinine.
I haven't reached the point of conclusion, where I figure out which case my current situation is headed for. Objection and I move to strike! Even though I have quite a clue to which track I'm pulling up in, denial and defeat inevitably has stalled me for a hot second. I'm sure curiosity has a little to do with some things also. Mixed with various amounts of stupidity and denseness. But, so be it.
Afterall, I've already been through much, much worse.
stone hearts don't bleed
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