It's not supposed to be this way. Its supposed to be something so full of joy. Stressful yes, but full with joy. Not crying and trying to forget the pain your heart feels all the time.
Sometimes I'm so weak that I can't decide for myself. Upsetting yes but that is me. I am the one who drags along the cow no matter how slow they are, or how burdening they are, because to me, in the end, I still need them. I need them now and I need them later.
I am the one, who eats the strawberries of the cake, or simply finish-up the icing, then find an excuse so I won't have to eat the cake itself. But in the end, because of feeling guilty, I just eat up the whole cake, to make up for the fact that I eat the strawberries first.
However, there are parts in my life that I want it to be perfect, and for that, I push aside my desire to taste the icing of the cake, but simply eat the cake first and save the yummy-mouth watering icing for later.
Or should I put it this way? I plant the roses of bed in the hot glaring sun so that I can smell the sweetness of roses and see the beautiful roses later in my life?
Metaphore. …