the french word for orgasm is 'le petit mort' - 'little death'. it makes sense that love is so painful. what doesn't make sense is why we put ourselves through it. is there honestly some reward, some emotional pat on the pack to congratulate yourself for getting through life as unscathed as possible? somehow it doesn't seem like much of a pursuasion (you are such pretty pursuasion). this isn't the best possible life but it's a start. this is...second place, average life. this is getting by, 9 to 5, average joe's weekday morning.
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