But, how will you be satisfied?
How can I be satisfied? The self-loathing that never goes away, the complacency that always emerges.
Ego punched me, and I watched, helpless and seemingly unwilling to do anything.
Night is an exception for free onset, so hit him, hit him hard, preferably until his head is bleeding and he can't get up again.
But I know, I just know, she will always stand up again and again.
I respect her and feel sorry for her. Obviously I scolded her, but I hugged her tightly. She is so disgusting and I am so disgusting. The threads of thinking are all tangled together, and I can't tell the difference between me and her. Is she me? We struggled so much, torn apart and bonded together, and the broken mirror reflected thousands of eyes. I lowered my head even further, not daring to look directly at anyone.
"Okay, let's cease fighting." We supported each other and said in unison.
Intention: I love me.