I admire the works of Shakespeare. Sublime and smutty in the same body of work. Purveyor of wit and wisdom, would that all my conversation possessed these virtues! The tragedy that is love encompassed within Romeo and Juliet - would it be as eternal if they were to live in peace? The brutality of Titus Andronicus where torture, cannibalism, and rape comprise the plot twists - are we so far removed from these atrocities in 300 years? Is the justice sought by Shylocke unreasonable?
I confess that my thoughts of late have centered on a travesty: and I cannot formulate if I am incapable of forgiveness; or if to do so would just add more insult and injury within my psyche. I admit that the ego is a frail and shallow thing, and in matters of pride I try to step softly, as all actions carry consequence. I don't believe myself to be of a difficult persuasion and quite predisposed to be happy or in the least jovial - In former times I have even been lectured on brevity. I came to understand early in life that there are forces one cannot counter or interact, but I continue to hope for an end to tyranny. In the moments that I must admit defeat, an almost overwhelming sense of frustration encircles me. And I wonder for what purpose? I have always believed in the appropriateness of feeling - if you feel anger there is a reason, is not ones perception the cornerstone of ones reality?
I also hold a strange frustration with my upbringing and religious training. I do not think belief a frivolous thing, as I am wont to believe that thoughts lead to action. Playing a martyr is not a role I relish, I would like to continue in the belief that one has the power to create ones own destiny and life.
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