Humans are not above the weather.
We play God all the time,
And then the weather pops in and screams:
"I'm still better than you, stupid!"
Ruining plans, lives, etc.
All this silly snow.
Preposterous.
So you know that debilitating feeling of falling so hard,
Like down the stairs,
But for a person?
And then you do it a couple times,
And a couple more,
And you realize it does not go away?
No matter how many times you trip and launch yourself
Into that person,
It never gets any better,
Any easier to deny,
Never any less painful.
It's like skinning your knee,
It leaves a mark.
Or like rugburn.
Oh the debilitating status of love.
"Mutual Weirdness".
Or,
Rug Burn.
Love is awfully strange that way.
Not so say, you know, I've fallen over him all over again.
("Help! I've fallen and I can't get up!")
But, you know, I probably have.
Cute and geeky and strange.
All in one adorable, blue-eyed package.
Ahh geez,
See what happens?
Sappy cliches and whatnot.
Oh boy.
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