Sometimes she can be the most insensitive bitch you’ve ever met. The kind where you just want to slap because you just really don’t like them for who they are or what they do to you. But yet I stay with her, through thick and thin. Not because it’s the wrong thing to do. Not because it’s always better to be beside hell’s fury instead of in front of it. But because despite that aggravating sense of self, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Some say it’s true love. I say I need to have the bones in my hand checked because the anger has to go somewhere and the walls are often the closest things to it.