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It has been said that sweet joy can come from great pain. I don't know if it's true and I don't know if this is the right kind of torment for that nonsense. But I do know it is pain.
It is a horrible feeling to be betrayed. It robs one of his sense of security, his trust in other people. It makes him question motives he would have never before considered. It makes him sad. Angry. Spiteful.
Sad because the friendships were a farce--a total fabrication of reality. Forever
I can't believe it's over
I watched the whole thing fall
And I never saw the writing that was on the wall
If I only knew
The days were slipping past
That the good things never last
That you were cryin'
Summer turned to winter
And the snow it turned to rain
Then the rain turned into tears upon your face
I hardly recognize the girl you are today
And God I hope it's not too late
Mm, it's not too late
I'm moving right now, so I've been going through old papers to toss what I can and semi-organize what I cannot toss. A few minutes ago I came across a dream I had written down 10 years ago. I think it says a lot about where I was emotionally at the time. Enjoy...or whatever.
I am in San Francisco--or perhaps it's Seattle. I only know it's very hilly, very urban, very...California. I'm searching for him. Searching so very hard--but with my eyes only--I can't move. I feel as
[This was supposed to be a back story to the "American Gothic" painting.
As she gazed across her husband’s shoulder at the countryside that surrounded them, she pondered the strange twists of fate that had brought her to this point in her life. She had never loved the man with whom she had shared her life for the last thirty years, yet she could not bring herself to leave him. He had rescued her from an unspeakable situation and provided well for her over the years. Still,
They call them the Lost Generation,
the men who died in the Great War.
They’re not lost, just dead.
Proud Mamas & Daddies,
worried wives & children
sent their boys off to war.
For Emperor and King,
For God and Motherland
They were mowed down en masse.
Thousands. Hundreds of thousands.
They dug their