I am convinced that men and women are base creatures.
I know for a fact that people can only be trusted as long as they have something to gain by keeping that trust.
I am a realist when it comes to love and emotions and relations.
Dogs frolicking basked by the warmth of the sunshine on a warm June day evoke emotions in me, but do not cause me to sit down and write epic poems steeped in philosophical meanings and double connotations. I like watching dogs play. That is it.
Pots of gold at the end of the rainbow are for fools who believe the taxman hasn’t already taken his share.
I like looking at colorful flowers, but Wordsworth’s Daffodils was written on a slow day, when he had a deadline, and could think of nothing else to write about. I don’t doubt the words – no – they are beautiful. But I know the ecstasy people say he was feeling was only because he had written something after a couple days of writers block. Otherwise he was, in my books, crazy.
Love dies when we stop receiving whatever it was we were receiving that caused us to love in the first place. It is a selfish emotion. I will die for you, but only if you love me.
Yes, I have been hurt in life. And I have caused as much hurt as I have received. I am human, and thus, a base creature.
Disjoint Wisdom 