I experienced pride and cowardice simultaneously. Maybe that is not so rare. Maybe cowardice is born from a sense of pride, a sense of protecting what is yours to the point of running away with it.
I did not want to talk about it with her because she seems so smug and certain that I am not safe to say my thoughts without a feeling of condemnation. Why do we have to protect our ideas so vehemently, so violently? I felt that if I didn’t come away converted to her idea there wouldn’t be any satisfaction unless I at least felt like I was guilty for holding to my idea. So I refrained from uttering a syllable of my thoughts other than the refrain, “I don’t really want to talk about this.”
I am tired of the two-side systems of our societies that cannot seem to operate unless they have some perceived threat of the other who is always out to undermine or destroy what is theirs. And yet, isn’t that what I am making of her, and her, and him, and them?
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