Today I cut my nose to spite my face.
The wound, fresh, blood seeps as my pride wanted to proove a clear point and not ensure that such measures was in vain.
A sacrifice to some extent, testing the strength of our connection for if I feel it, surely you must to.
Mother and I laughed earlier, for the minister made a questionable move within his sermon which did not sit right. Within seconds we both looked at each other and smirked, not only due to the minister, but the speed in which we looked upon one another.
This is what I expected in this here situation.
My nose stings, it pains and as the breeze boastfully blows pass, it causes discomfort.
I done this, for us.
A hypocrite to some degree, for on countless occasions I have been asked to wear the shoes of another and notice how my actions impact on them and now it seems I am asking the same of you.
A bitter truth, hard to swallow.
I feel hurt.
I feel that this 100 percent could never share evenly and my pride would not allow me to show you why.
For the years shared between us should make you realize.
Today I am ignorant enough not to care
I should cuss
I should send all thoughts through for you to share such anger, yet. To burden you with such things makes me feel less human, for if this is what makes you happy, I cannot dispute it.
I can only allow you to live your life.
And ill stitch this here nose back in place learning a lesson for the future.
The irony of my hypocrisy.