Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.
I rarely cry. I save my feelings up inside me like I have something more specific in mind for them. I am waiting for the exact perfect situationand then BOOM! I'll explode in a light show of feeling and emotion - a pinata stuffed with tender nuances and pent-up passions
Waiting, done at really high speeds, will frequently look like something else.
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