Call her up, tell her love is not a question..

..It is an answer and it deserves to be repeated when ever the question is asked.

What is the question? Everything. Everything from, "How do I look ?" to "Will you take me out ?" "What are you listening to ?" "Where are you going ?" "Do you love me ?" "What are you doing ?" "What plans ?"

Love. Love. Love. Love. Always the answer. Different forms and different faces to respond to but always the same.


It all comes back to me. To you. To him and to her. You tell people you love them and it makes them stop and think. It makes them fall in love with the world all over again.


But I know the hatred too, I feel it each time. Why can't I conquer the hatred with all the love, I have for her ? Why ?
Intense lack of love. Shit.

Why do you hate me so much ? :\ :\