A stupid arguement between friends.
Both parties guilty.
Blown out of proportion by inflated egos giving into the id, pleasurable survival.
Feels right at the moment, but is so short lived.
Ah, modern philosophy.
In a more ancient, biblical sense (one I prefer)...pride to the point of sin.
Sure, we might feel better if, in the end, we were right.
But, at what cost?
Things are resolved, now.
The healing can begin.
But, over the weekend, I felt like I'd always imagined it would feel to be dumped by a high school boyfriend.
Really el crappo.
Briefly, on Saturday, I felt half-way happy.
Okay, maybe a quarter happy.
'Cause the mail was beautiful.
Oh, how I love beautiful mail.
these clippies for my girls for Rosie's birthday party from here
this fabric for Ro's birthday shirt from here
something for said friend from here
the poster form 'The Swell Season' show I went to in December from here
I'm framing that bad boy to hang near the basement stairs.
I love that print.
I love that I met Glen that night.
I love that this friend and others were there to share that moment with me.
I love that it matches my decor.
I love that I love it.
And, even if it didn't match anything...I love it so much, I'd still hang it with a song in my heart.
So, for 2.2 seconds, I felt good.
And, now, after we hashed it out...I feel even better.
Because I am convinced, I will never be normal.
Oh, yeah...and I love that friend even more than beautiful mail.