“Repeat after me,” you said. “I am loved. I am whole. I am one with the universe.”
“I am hated. I am broken. Everything is relative.”
Sighing, you looked up from your full lotus pose. “Ben, when will you stop messing around?”
“When you get a real job.”
“Teaching yoga is a real job.”
“Then how come you can’t get a degree in yoga-ology?”
“Because degrees are from institutes that enforce idiotic indoctrinations on our impressionable youth.”
“Well, at least they teach us not to alliterate so much.”
Laughing, you threw yourself at me.
We were the definition of juxtaposition.
“I am hated. I am broken. Everything is relative.”
Sighing, you looked up from your full lotus pose. “Ben, when will you stop messing around?”
“When you get a real job.”
“Teaching yoga is a real job.”
“Then how come you can’t get a degree in yoga-ology?”
“Because degrees are from institutes that enforce idiotic indoctrinations on our impressionable youth.”
“Well, at least they teach us not to alliterate so much.”
Laughing, you threw yourself at me.
We were the definition of juxtaposition.
