I feel like every time we talk we have the same conversation…Did it ever occur to you that you could be wrong?
You stand there and tell me things as fact. You will hear no one who wishes to disagree with what you “know”.
But, my simple research took your “facts” and stripped them down to what they really were: fables.
I hope someday you’ll learn that fact and opinion are not the same thing. You say you know that… which proves how wrong you can be.
You think of yourself as a mature, logical person. Then why won’t you listen to what I’m saying? Don’t you think a mature, logical person would look at both viewpoints? And realize that perhaps the other person just might know what they’re talking about? Or is that just too incomprehensible for you?
I should have known you would never admit defeat. Foolishly, I dreamed you’d realize your errors. How can you be so sure, so self-complacent in your own knowledge? And you wonder why I’m so irked with you… you just don’t have a clue, do you?
The asininity of you makes me want to scream! You’re wrong. Do you hear me? Wrong.
You can choose to listen or not. I know the truth. It’s a poor comfort but it’s better than nothing.
You are far too opinionated for your own good.
{And I wish I could tell you that...}
{Photo of Sibylle Baier}
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Silhouettes of a secret. A story told over a cuppa. Or perhaps just sitting on that stone bench, basking in the moonlight... and not saying anything at all.
("I can no other answer make but thanks, and thanks, and ever thanks." -Shakespeare, Twelfth Night)