Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all,
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a large and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.


- Ella Wheeler Wilcox


P.S. I hate myself these past weeks. I'm being oversensitive over simple things, it's so irrational and so not me. It's meanie and quite b*tchy. And no matter how much I feel guilty about me being a meanie, I keep doing it over and over again. Oh, and I eat too much too. Maybe it's stress. Maybe it's SPM. But it's very irrational.

Love,
Pypaa. xx