I'm not interested in involving myself with the emotions of other people; introduced by some tyrant of dreams that raids my rational mind.
But is this my rational mind? How can I be so confident?
Who is really right in this situation?
Perhaps I should trust this sort of intuition that haunts me in my deepest expeditions. It tells me I must be alright, and that I must allow myself to feel things.
Although a large part of myself does not allow for such empathy–a fatal, depraved flaw I hate so much–but persists with a terrible passion.
So am I restricting thought itself? It is a delicate submission, but oh how easy it is to give in.