Master of Prosoddity
Love always starts with pain.
The pain of giving away something I held dear to myself
My vulnerabilities, my self esteem, my ego.
They are all yours. My Love.
It turns out that I have to write to maintain some semblance of sanity, even if this means costing someone theirs.
So I’m just going to write about anything that i feel is worth talking about.
What’s happening to nuance?
I would not be wrong if I assumed that a majority of us are obsessed or preoccupied with where we are going in life. It’s all good until you start deconstructing where this “where” is and what direction we are “going” in, or what “life” is.