There is a thin line between love and hate, and people in general avoid being anywhere near that line. I've seen the two battle fields we're allowed to fight at; I've cross that tenuous line so many times I've stopped keeping track. I know love and I know hate, and I also know I understand neither of them. Both love and hate can be very tendentious, they both made us fight for something we never imagine our selves fighting for; both make us believe that there is something where sometimes nothing can grow or be.
I don't have a story, I've a bunch of memories that fill me up and give a direction to my life. I could push them all out of me, but then who would I be without them?
[to be continued... (no inspiration today)]
By: Andie Fern Maars