Of course I didn't care much about the rest of the things he said after that cause all I can think about is that comparison made. It was like voices trapped within tightly sealed jars that's meant to keep the cookies from turning bad and the sad thing is, I can't loosen it. I was mad. Really mad. But I didn't figure out why I was then. Couldn't. I didn't get myself too. Why was I mad? Not that it wasn't a fact he was stating. So technically speaking, there was nothing to be mad about unless I intend to be unreasonable and get mad with the truth or with honesty or anything/people that associates with it. Then when I hung up and started thinking again. I realized. I wasn't mad. I was hurt. And I guess that's much more worse than being mad. Because in the course of life and relationships, I have come to, under bitter circumstances and experiences, learnt that being hurt is something that is far more exhausting and demands way more effort to heal and that occasionally, some wounds just won't ever disappear or stop haunting you.

Thank you for loving me and a whole lot of other stuff that I can never finish listing

Not sure how I should react to this endless greed for love

.