Type Rope

There is a fine line between love and hate. Those lines can sometimes swirl and blend and fade together like the water colors on a canvas. If you asked me if I loved my killer, I would have told you hell no. But if you asked me if I could have learned to love him, I would have told you yes. Yes is always going to be the answer.

You can look at someone and see there entire life behind they're eyes. The pain and suffering and the lines between love and hatred. You can learn to love someone and learn to hate them with a passion. But you can't learn to not hate someone and say you love them the next day. It takes time for things to heal, and mend and shift and twist. To become something stronger then a tiny type rope that might break or you might fall off of if you take a unsure step. But to take a chance and keep going until you reach the middle, you know you going to be fine and your not going to fall. You keep going and when you reach the end, you can walk into the light.

You look into the eyes of the beholder and smile. Then when he smiles back, you know your not going home. You see a fake, plastic smile. But that is all that we are. Plastic. Re-usable and disposable.

If you asked me if I loved my killer I would say yes. But if you asked me could I have hated him, for what he did to me? I would say no. Because the process of loving or hating a person, matters in the order you choose to go in. If your in the middle of a type rope, do you choose to go towards the light, towards love? Or do you go back. To the little black tunnel that will lead you to never learning how to love. It only matters which way you go.