Flowers are pretty.
But they die.
Morbid thought, forgive me.
Why do men give us women flowers? What is it supposed to signify? I want you to have these fresh flowers, which will wilt tomorrow, just like in a few years, you will too?
And chocolates? Why? Are they saying, you're going to get fat anyway, why don't I help speed it up?
Men are funny creatures, aren't they? They want to open doors for you, and want to be the Big Strong Man all the time, and still say things like, I love you for your independence. They hate it, if you're too busy to call, but hate it if you call too often. Want you to look pretty, get annoyed if you get leery looks from other men.
What's a girl to do?
It's a hard world to live in. If you're too pretty, women don't like you. If you're not pretty, men don't like you!
Really, you can't blame me for being neurotic.
Oh well. Must keep on the search, for answers to my random, extremely imperative questions. And obviously, that elusive, true love.
Because God's truth? I'm in love with a schizophrenic. A crazy, not-all-there, amazingly intelligent, lives-in-an-alternate Universe, schizophrenic. And I'm worried that, THAT is true love.
Much love,
Your Cynical Romantic.
(:
But they die.
Morbid thought, forgive me.
Why do men give us women flowers? What is it supposed to signify? I want you to have these fresh flowers, which will wilt tomorrow, just like in a few years, you will too?
And chocolates? Why? Are they saying, you're going to get fat anyway, why don't I help speed it up?
Men are funny creatures, aren't they? They want to open doors for you, and want to be the Big Strong Man all the time, and still say things like, I love you for your independence. They hate it, if you're too busy to call, but hate it if you call too often. Want you to look pretty, get annoyed if you get leery looks from other men.
What's a girl to do?
It's a hard world to live in. If you're too pretty, women don't like you. If you're not pretty, men don't like you!
Really, you can't blame me for being neurotic.
Oh well. Must keep on the search, for answers to my random, extremely imperative questions. And obviously, that elusive, true love.
Because God's truth? I'm in love with a schizophrenic. A crazy, not-all-there, amazingly intelligent, lives-in-an-alternate Universe, schizophrenic. And I'm worried that, THAT is true love.
Much love,
Your Cynical Romantic.
(:
