You are full of it.
You are fake, flitting from one person to the next.
You are full of lies, full of excuses, full of issues.
One day you profess a certain level of love, loyalty, and friendship…
And then, like a Gemini plugging along, you move on to the next person.
You make me utterly sick.
I’m sorry I ever wasted my time being your friend.
You’re giving back nothing, but excuses, not realizing I know the truth.
Take all your bullshit and sell it to someone who cares.
You have lost the privilege of having me in your life.
I’m walking away, do not follow me.
Copyright © 2014 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Mental Illness Associated With Shorter Life Span More Than Heavy Smoking!
*Yet, people still don’t take it as seriously as they should.*
Love Is Just Another Way To Die
So Why Do I Write?
“So why do I write, torturing myself to put it down? Because in spite of myself I’ve learned some things. Without the possibility of action, all knowledge comes to one labeled “file and forget,” and I can neither file nor forget. Nor will certain ideas forget me; they keep filing away at my lethargy, my complacency. Why should I be the one to dream this nightmare?” ―Ralph Ellison