Don't speak.

Females are fickle creatures. We hate and love all in a matter of seconds, switching from this to that at the drop of a word or disatisfactory look. We're soft-hearted. We forgive. Sometimes we forget (but don't count on it). We also hate with a vengeance without need for cause or provocation. We keep handy storage bags filled with malleable voodoo dolls, just in case.

I knew it would end up like this. What happened to all the fighting, the sting of hateful words fired too soon? I can't decide if it matters, or if I actually give a damn, but I'm cursed with tits. A fickle, confused creature who hates and loves so fiercely all at the same time.

***

Don't tell me 'cause it hurts.

"Don't Speak" - No Doubt