As far as I know, being an adult requires a certain amount of responsibility, not just for yourself, but for others as well. Or it's possibly just how I was raised. Then again, isn't that what responsibility actually implies?
Unfortunately, right now is such a redundancy of maybes. If I don't write about it, my brain will burst from an insane amount of annoyance for wasted time and trust. Maybe, again, this is an exaggeration, but the prior week of exhaustion doesn't help, either. And to be given an argument that clearly does not help adds to the bull I've been dealing with since before I left home early this morning.
One thing remains clear--let's go back to the part where I said I mean what I say, shall we? The downside of spite directed towards friends is the double-edgedness, if there is such a word, of the situation: you either illicit something that gets brushed off, or create a solid kind of rift that takes time to go away. Especially if balls are nonexistent. And, if you really know how ladies function, you know point A will not always work for similar situations.
Because there will always be a glitch in the matrix.
Oh,Ye Guardians of Change, please come sooner.
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