My Kryptonite

... is you.

I never learn, do I? If you open yourself up to people, you give them the power to hurt you. They may not mean to, will swear to you that they'd rather do a million unpleasant things like sleeping on a bed made exclusively of live, writhing snakes and thorns, but believe them at your peril. Most often, they'd make it feel like it's your fault. Not that I'm perfect, but no one deserves to be shunted aside until they're convenient, or to have someone be angry with them for needing time.

So, screw true love. Screw relationships. Just screw 'em all.

Staying True

What is truth, anyway?

Is it in anything I say?

I swear I'll never lie -

That I'd rather die

It's so easy to believe

Even as I deceive.

Truth is a dream -

the clippetty-clip-clop

of the high heels

of a woman on the hop.

Prick-prick-pricking,

stabbing the stone

though she's walking alone

Truth is a lie

until you die.

It's all in your head,

the black and the red,

debits and credits -

nothing truly fits.

Meaningless words for the most part, but they fill my head. And it makes sense to me, somewhere, deep down inside where I'm trying to stay true to who I really am. I change so much and so often that I can barely find that truth now. You'd think that basic principles wouldn't change. Like love being sacred. Or always being truthful, no matter what the cost. Don't cheat, don't lie, don't steal. Those are basic. They don't change. Or do they? I can't tell anymore.

It's so easy to slip a little. Relax one little rule, because, really, who does it hurt? Just this time, right? We won't do it again. And the next time, it comes just that much easier. Is crime a habit? I believe it could be. You never hurt the ones you love. Or do you hurt them the most? I don't know.

We all try, we shoot for the stars, aiming for the impossible in search of the God in whose image we were created. Did God expect us to be perfect when he created us, or dependent on his love to save us from the way he made us? How fair is that anyway? To create humans with hopes and dreams, with a conscience - to design them to want to be good - no, that should be Good, with a G - and then say OK, you're not perfect, I'll forgive you if you make mistakes, you're just human. It's like saying "You have to want to be the best, but really, if you're not, it's just because I made you that way, don't worry about it - but try anyway."

Is the choice between good and evil just sport for unseen beings, or really the daily struggle to save the world that it seems to us? Is there any point to it at all?

Hate

She feels it throbbing through her veins, pulsing, intense.. She wants to tear apart the people who do this to them. They are the scum of the Earth.

She doesn't trust herself to speak. No, she's not afraid that she'd regret what she wants to say, she just doesn't want to allow them to see her lose control.

They leave.

She throws a glass at the wall, watching it as it appears to shatter in slow motion, splashing water everywhere.