You act like a machine. Your interactions leave me feeling skimmed- like a superficial wave washed over me- “what was the point? I'm not wet, barely misted. I'm offended that as a friend, this is the conversation you continue to offer. It's like someone keeps spitting in my face, and telling me they believe this will quench my thirst.”
- He stood 7 feet above the ground and looked out over the ocean. He seemed mighty tiny. His utterances yearn to be the vehicle of expressing the depths of compassion and love. And he's simple. His depths are compassion and love. And that in itself is beautiful, like looking tiny beside the Atlantic Coastline. You on the other hand, hold it all in- behind sad shark eyes. You tell me America is great, but you don't believe it yourself. You say you're an optimist, but any outward look you give is melancholic or scrutinizing. I'm not sure what's beautiful about someone who finds such bliss in ignorance and such routine in hypocrisy.
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