I painted the most hideous flower ever; it was warped and weird and twisted and sickly. I tried to fix it, but it just kept getting worse. I couldn't change it, so I tried to hide it; I surrounded it with pretty flowers, but that only made it stand out worse. So then I painted over it, over the whole thing, with black, twice, because I kept missing parts. But then I couldn't paint anything else, because the black just sucked up all the other colors. So I painted over it again, with white, and the other layers of paint started to run through because...
that's way too much stinking paint.
The hideous flower was much better than all my attempts to change it or fix it. I only made it worse when I should have just left it alone.
that's way too much stinking paint.
The hideous flower was much better than all my attempts to change it or fix it. I only made it worse when I should have just left it alone.
Or leave your name out whatever you prefer.
And if ever interested in reading this blog it is at FREED AT LAST
Thank you in advance, just an awesome analogy to me