Monday, July 30, 2012

hard to find

Betrayal is probably the most hurtful thing one could do. It surpasses indifference, even hatred. It is the voluntary act of abuse of confidence and planned actions that make it perverse. It is so vile, even hardened generals detest it.

I wonder why I feel neither hatred nor contempt nor hate. I feel nothing. At all.


On another note, although not totally unconnected, I thank the people who endure me, and with me. Not too close to suffocate, not too far to be distant. I know I never talk about this period of drowning, but I also know you feel it, and I am sorry if you have been burdened, though you might be willing.


Friends are hard to find.

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