Every time you reminisce on the beautiful roses and the scent of love and warm embrace “the good old days” you forget the thorn roses from their tongue poisonous to your self-worth. Is there any left in you? Do you look in the mirror and see anything valuable looking back at you? They don’t even pretend to tolerate you anymore… When you shouldn’t be tolerated… But celebrated… And of course, life isn’t dancing in the park, but even when they can’t stand you, they should always like you! Unless they don’t, in which case there is the door! But there you stand at the door instead of walking out or letting snakes pass… You stand there! Blocking in all the hurt… Darling are you afraid that this is it? Do you think you deserve this? A slow death… Not by your hand, not by theirs.. but by their words and actions… And you allow them…
How do I tell you, darling, they are making you sick? They are a slow dose of agonizing death…
convosfromwithin 