You cast the pity on the charade you’ve woven yourself into — the poverty you’ve pushed yourself into and the desperation you have embodied. Can I blame you, even? Or are you a symptom of a circumstance, like I, with no blame appropriate at the feet, just a common reaction to a common circumstance? I am disinclined to give you the benefit of the doubt; you have given me no reason to suspend my disbelief or to reserve judgment. And so I seem foolish in letting you ensnare me in your web of necessity. But maybe that is the risk I must take.
A myriad of omission takes place — you forget who you are, where you came from, what you have to offer this world. All you know is the rut you’ve firmly dug yourself into — if nothing else, you know that.
Stop so pathetically and slowly killing yourself. Do time and-or the world a favour, and end it now — extinguish yourself and be done with it. You are so clearly already carving your path — one would hate to make it effete.
Hack your miner’s lung, rationalize your bullshit, forget your responsibility.
It’s not like anyone was ever counting on you to become anything.
-M
