I definitely see life through rose coloured glasses, and I always have. But romance is a dark and tragic thing. You trip and you fall and fall and fall and then you hit the ground. Blood splatters everywhere and you lay there, alone and helpless and hurt, pain coursing and pulsating through your body with every beat of your heart, stinging and burning. You can't get up on your own so you just continue to lay, every bone in your body broken and smashed and shattered. And then someone comes and helps you up and heals you back to normal. Now, ideally, that should be it, it just keeps getting better from there, right? But most of the time you either push them off a cliff, or they push you. And then there's more falling.
That is beautiful.
Dark is fascinating. We don't want darkness in our lives but we love it in others. We're all selfish sadists. But it's who we are. One of the reasons we help is so we can ease our own guilt at enjoying it. But it's not the drama that we enjoy. No, it's something much crueler. It's pain showing with silent tears, a small twitch of the fingers we notice through the corner of our eye, and the cracking of the voice when they're not really okay.
My rose coloured glasses are cracked and coated with blood.
That is beautiful.
Dark is fascinating. We don't want darkness in our lives but we love it in others. We're all selfish sadists. But it's who we are. One of the reasons we help is so we can ease our own guilt at enjoying it. But it's not the drama that we enjoy. No, it's something much crueler. It's pain showing with silent tears, a small twitch of the fingers we notice through the corner of our eye, and the cracking of the voice when they're not really okay.
My rose coloured glasses are cracked and coated with blood.
