A sentimental truth

We are wrong about a lot of things. Maybe we will never find that true love and maybe we would find. Maybe we would never find one, but many. But let's not pretend this is final with whomever we do lie.

Meeting her can be an exception of reality but not of difference in the outcome whether positive or negative, but a difference in experience. So let's play in this mud tonight and rob hands together like babies not perturbed by our anxieties and discoveries of the things we soon become afraid of. Let us dance even when the heavens become shy to rain on us the chills we soon become oblivious of. Let us enjoy now and not complain or shed tears when we are no more friends. When we do fall apart, we will dust our feet and wash our hands in one bucket of memories and soon keep different buckets since we no longer share the mud for the pleasure of tonight.

We never truly love in this bodies we own. We never truly give of ourselves in the capacity that our God deems we do. We, like animals are driven by our desires, however they rush at us, we pant and then utter words that are only true to their meaning but never the meaning we intend to communicate. So we are liars in our stead, talking but never doing, and feeling but never truly expressing what we feel because we are just plain scared about how these buckets are kept and how well our memories are kept... We are scared about the people with whom we intend to share a bucket with. Maybe we can never find a clean water in their bucket to wash hands. Maybe they washed the blood stain or even the skeletons they never tell anyone of. So we are scared of ourselves because we are never truly lovers seeking to love the other despite their bucket's content... We want to make memories with sweet souls that have been nurtured by some other. We never truly want to do these things for others but for ourselves. This is the foundation of the lie we tell...