Dog wood

Dog wood blossoms are such a beautiful reminder that life exists in the plainest wrapping. Spindly trees outstretched in acceptance of all the sun has to offer. The sight of them makes me wish I was dressed in a dirndl and milking cows in the Alps. There is something else about them though, something one forgets about until you are already in the middle of the sidewalk on a gorgeous spring morning: their smell. The scent is pervasive, odorous and sharp. I feel my nostrils flare right at the point of inhalation. Such as with many other things we put up with on a daily basis, the dogwood looks pretty on the outside but is just as rotten as the rest of us on the inside. 

I cannot care about him this way. I cannot continue holding my breath hoping the stench of his weakness will pass. I already know it will not unless he does it himself. I made my decision and, just like him, I feel as though I can do whatever I want. My life is happening right now. I won't slow down and I won't speed up unless I want to. What does he want? I never know. The only thing he is sure of are his degraded sexual desires and his uncanny ability to order it up like a fucking pizza in a pair of panties. It's not for me. I don't care enough about him for that...it's easy to let go when you know the other person let you go way back when it actually mattered. He'll do what makes him happy and that's fine. He'll just have to do it without me and not blame anyone but himself. It's pretty damn hard to shit on someone and make it hurt when all they do continuously day  in and out is shit on themselves. Who needs it? I can only speak for me and my behavior. You are like the dogwood sometimes though. No matter how hard you try you can still be beautiful creature on the outside and just as putrid and repulsive on this inside. People know. They can smell it on you.