Once, I had this little statue of two women churning butter. It was a nice little wooden statue, and I liked it a lot. My brother was angry with me (for some reason), so he broke it on purpose when I wasn't home. I fixed it with a hot glue gun, but then he just broke it again.
That made me angry. But none of his stuff is breakable, so my revenge was (and is) still uncarried-out.
That isn't what I'm talking about, though. I mean mentally. Like someone told you a fact, and it ruined the little picture you had going in your head.
I'm explaining this badly.
It's like the one guy who 'ruins everything.' You know, that one fact-checker who is always like "Dogs can't fly! That's impossible!" and you just want to tell them that you're just dreaming anyway, idiot, so shut up and let me think!
But even after that, you can never look at what you were thinking about the same way again.
I am usually that person, but I am starting to look upon myself with disdain, if that makes any sense.
It was like I found out that Vertigo was an actual place. (It's a club in Germany.) The song was a little less nice after that.
If I have mercilessly confused you, I apologize. I don't even know what the heck I'm talking about sometimes.
Quote for Sunday, June 13, 2010:
"I told you I was sick."
-written on Jeremiah Johnson's grave
Muse for Today:
and I saw Toy Story 2 yesterday and I feel so, so OLD. I'm not that old. I hope.
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