<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar/8579298958469279153?origin\x3dhttp://thisfrozenyogurt.blogspot.com', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
03 November 2010 8:45 PM

Of bread, butter or silent sympathy

All my life, I have this undying habit of making excuses for people. Whether its for personal peace, or for the largely curious minds of others. The concerned, or so they call themselves.

I'd like to think that for whatever action a being makes, it is made with reason. With some sort of rationality. The more I love you, the more I respect you, the more I believe you.

But I am out of the most plausible excuses for you. Wrung dry. I cannot see any logic, any bit of rationality and maturity in your actions. I fail to find.

Because I cannot figure out, where's your head at?




.
play