Re: [postcard: gin & tonic]
[Back to pen, as there's a concern about the Sharpie's ink bleeding through this one.]
Asked and answered. The earth turns life curtailed into rot, then back into body. The ouroboros [Something crossed out with several lines here] ad infinitum. Do you garden? I think I've got a knack for killing plants just by looking at them the wrong way.
And what kind of person were you molded to become? I would have to agree with you that nothing stays the same. Day to day, moment to moment, I feel that I have half a dozen different people fighting for control on the inside. On a tuesday afternoon I might be full of umbrage and elbow-deep in someone else's viscera. Metaphorically, although perhaps not always. And sunday morning, it might be rumpled sheets and a tangle of limbs on bedsheets warmed by the sun, with kisses turned sticky by honey and jam.
Would it disappoint you to learn even my bitterness that seems so ingrained is often fleeting? Maybe I could try to grow a cinchona tree in my backyard to keep a more consistent supply, were it not for the regrettably black thumb I mentioned.
To be hurt is cruel in its inevitability. To have someone enjoy it, though? I think most people don't deserve such viciousness.