My favorite new discovery about love is that it's best when it's forceful. Most love obediently because they're afraid of being hurt. What would hurt me most would be sitting there quietly while love sneaks away, instead of lunging to tackle it like a wild animal. How lifeless it is to be loved in this fashion. We're better off alone. To be loved makes me feel illuminated like when the sun's beams fall onto my bare skin.
Where do we take comfort in this mess that is living? A tired and tangled maiden, she can be unraveled to seep to new depths. Pale face cradled beneath a sheer lace. This veil of loneliness has been handed down through generations. How much can be discovered in one lifetime? Love and sunshine.. is there a difference? Both pour light into her wounds and make it hurt to look away from her.
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