For An Adult, Eating Alone

Part Of Life Is A Quest To Find That One Essential Person Who Will Understand Our Story. But We Choose Wrongly So Often. Over The Ensuing Years That Person We Thought Understood Us Best Ends Up Regarding Us With Pity, Indifference, Or Active Dislike. Those Who Truly Care Can Be Divided Into Two Categories: Those Who Understand Us, And Those Who Forgive Our Worst Sins. Rarely Do We Find Someone Capable Of Both.

At The End Of Their Relationship She Asked If They Could Still Remain Friends. His Face Stayed Expressionless Until He Said "no. Because We Put Friends In Boxes. You See Them Once In A While, Or Even A Lot, But Still They Have Their Box In Your Life, Their Specific Place. Their *category.* That's One Of The Great Things About Being Someone's Love-- You Have No Box In Their Life Because You're Part Of All Their Boxes. You're Their Friend, Their Lover, Their Confidante-- All Those Things. I Don't Want To Be Put In One Of Your Boxes And I Don't Want To Shrink You To Fit Into One Of Mine.

Although Our Emotions Sometimes Behave Like Spoiled, Selfish Children, Unfortunately We Cannot Send Them To Their Room Or Tell Them To Stop Screaming.

Just Write About What Bites You And Damn The Rest.

I Read Less Of Everything Now. With Only Fond Memories Of Others' Work, It Will Be Interesting To Give My Own Journal Writing A Try Now.