Why does it seem that those who we would do anything for would never do the same in return for us? How long does it take to realize that although we would do the impossible to make them happy, chances are they wouldn't even move a finger for us? Is it because deep down we hope something will change or because we're too scared to admit that everything is not as it appears to be. What will it take for us to finally realize that our efforts are a waste?
When we're surrounded by darkness all of our demons come out to play. Whether they're terrifyingly real or just a figment of our imagination they keep us restless for all hours of the night. As the silence remains they grow louder. We're trapped until the rising of the sun when they quickly retreat, only to haunt us again when the sun sets for another night of misery.
The problem was I had already dug my own grave so far into the ground that even if there was an apocalypse, chances were I would never be getting back above the dirt
Salt water and tears, only one brings happiness yet they both taste the same when they hit my lips
Why is it so easy to make a mistake yet so impossible to fix one?
Sometimes the problem is that we let our hopes run farther and faster than reality.
Everyone has their own definition of what constitutes perfection. But if we all view it differently then nothing is seen as perfect in anyone's eyes but our own. Why do we keep trying to chase something that doesn't exist?
Spending a rainy day pinteresting, I came across a do it yourself sugar leg scrub. Promising to give you irresistibly smooth, summer ready l...