The Cut

It's very easy to get comfortable and be at the mercy of someone else. You feel your emotions go into extremes and you get uncomfortable because you're too comfortable, that you can't imagine why you're held hostage to your emotions when they are clearly your own. You try to strike a balance and hang on to your sanity but you're not always successful. The harder you claw the more it slips away. You give and you take and you take and you give but somehow the exchange never seems enough. At least not until you feel like you're bleeding but you've got no more blood to give. You feel shortchanged but you never stop because you hope for more. One can always hope, it doesn't cost much, just logic in exchange for some disillusionment. There's beauty in clouded truth, in masked pain. It's never perfect until it contains some imperfection, some brutal scar that becomes the signature of the picture, that sticks out, that rings true, that cuts you open and makes you feel so raw. That will be something you remember forever.

That's love.