it’s only hard if you feel sorry for yourself
too cool.
noisetrade
sounds like a soul tie
;_;
you know that feeling
“In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ 7 tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.”
—Joshua 4
john 13
12 When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them. 13 “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. 14 Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. 15 I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. 16 I tell you the truth, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. 17 Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.
Reblog, go on your blog, click the triangle, wait for 5 sec, and press skip.
I JUST SPENT LIKE AN 1 HOUR OF MY LIFE ON THIS, GENIUS
this is legit so sick.
#1
It’s dark outside, and Cutie Patootie hasn’t come back home yet.
Honey Bunny is still in the kitchen scraping the cold remains of dinner off the linoleum floor when she remembers that the front door is gaping open, letting in a draft. The hallway is dark, but she treads the threadbare carpet with familiarity to the entryway.
Leaning against the thick oak door, she peers out.
It’s been four hours. Night has fallen and stars shimmer feebly in the sky, losing to the glare of the faraway city lights. The sun is long gone and there is no moon. The streetlamps flicker on dimly, one by one, but the lonely street is empty.
How stupid.
Honey Bunny steps back inside and pushes the heavy door shut, locking it. It’s so cold. She retreats back into the kitchen, where the fluorescent lights give some semblance of warmth.
There is still some crusty spaghetti sauce on the slightly dull wedding band on her finger, so she washes it at the sink. The hot water isn’t working again. She surveys the kitchen while wiping her hands on frayed jeans.
The batteries in the kitchen clock should be changed soon. The dishwasher is running noisily. There are still some meatballs stuck to the linoleum. The faded flowers on the counter need to be tossed. Some of the tableware needs to be replaced.
She rearranges the cutlery restlessly. The daggers of fury that Cutie Patootie hadn’t really meant to shout at her protrude from her skin. They stab and snag with every erratic movement of her caffeinated hands. It’s been four hours and he didn’t mean it and she knows that she can just pluck them from her flesh, but she isn’t yet satisfied enough with her sulking to remove them. And bitterness keeps wounds fresh.
He’s taking so damn long to come home. His passing comment about her spaghetti still cuts into the back of her mind. And that dumb blonde—
The retort she has been sharpening since her husband’s abrupt departure is almost ready. She tests the edge of the blade against the roof of her mouth and is pleased with its sting.
It will probably kill him, but just for a moment.
Fifteen minutes later, she hears the doorknob jiggling at the front of the house. Then there is a timid knock at the door and she treads the cold carpet again to the front door to let Cutie Patootie in.
He is still limping slightly, but looks better now. His eyes are red and dry but his cheeks are still salty, and there is a sorry look on his face. He shivers in the cold.
“Honey—”
He wants to apologize to Honey Bunny for what he said, but she’s hardly listening.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” He trips and tumbles over his words, and Honey Bunny is impatient. “You know that I’ve been busy lately—It’s all just a big mis—Your cooking has gotten a lot better—When we go back to see Dr. Kinsberg—”
She knows that he’s tired, that working overtime is taking a toll on him, that their debt is only growing, that although they never see each other except when they’re arguing, he still loves her. But lately—
She’s tired too.
“And I’m not interested at all in that girl. My eyes were on you the whole time. You know that. You’re the only girl for me.”
The hand that lightly grazes her shoulder is so heavy and so shocking that she recoils in self-preservation. His comforting words attempt to remove those daggers in her back and suture her pride. It was all just a big misunderstanding.
His eyes are warm, but she doesn’t want healing. She doesn’t want to let that perfectly sharpened retort to go to waste.
“I don’t love you anymore,” she says.
The lie hangs thickly in the air for a brief moment. Then the knife is deeply embedded in his breast and he’s dying. He quietly weeps.
Honey Bunny thought saying it would feel different, but she just feels cold. In a minute she is going to feel horrible, so she quickly turns around and walks out. She’ll apologize in the morning. She shuts off the kitchen lights on her way out and walks into the warmth of their bedroom, leaving Cutie Patootie to bleed his love into the faded mint rug in the middle of the dark living room floor.
Later that night when Cutie Patootie sleeps alone on the couch and sleep comes easier than expected, Honey Bunny thinks to herself that something might be wrong. Although she loves him so much, she loves winning so much more.
—
May 31, 2011
you could love me more in a moment
than other lovers could in a lifetime
NIGHTNIGHT by DEDDY
