i give up the right to argue. i give up the right to make a statement.
and i eat it, become the fool, as i have done many times before. looking like the one who's lost all sanity, a grasp of relative perspective and clarity in reality. maybe i have. maybe i'm crazy. i wouldn't like myself very much if i weren't, though.
so much seems demanded of me. maybe it isn't so much. maybe it seems so much because my capacity to give is so small. maybe that speaks to my overall generosity. that my emotional ability determines my view of how much i can afford.
perhaps it is a good thing, that the thing i feeling in me dying everyday, is in fact a cancerous growth that needs to eventually die. the loose ends that remained unresolved will just become like withering flowers, slowly decaying into nothingness, like accepting a bad ending to a movie. a continual process of "dying to one's self."
i do this all, because one day, i hope to be able to shed my cynicism.