If you read a great deal, you'll discover, unless you have an odd mind, that your values will gradually chose middle ground. What has been middle ground as defined through extremities. Thus you know to be neither meek nor aggressive; to neither believe in one side too much or the other; to judge, or not judge, people according to various sources.

  You are frequently weak. As you've spent your life in books. You have little notion how real people work - you've coddled yourself from the possibilities of being hurt. You fear confrontation. You imagine what the face of good and evil looks like, when in fact you're inclined to believe the good in everyone. Bella keeps stressing that I believe too much in the good in people, that I'll find myself getting sold and thanking the merchant for my lollipop. She doesn't want me to change. However, I'm not fond of thanking the merchant for my lollipop after getting sold. Everytime I try to protect myself I end up feeling twisted and weak from trying to think of others crookedly. For believing that people mean one ill creates a reflection upon oneself. I sometimes have no idea why people want to act the way they do, when the straightest path is in fact the best for self preservation. Not in the physical and material sense, of course.

  I think that perfect evil is an easy way for us to stomach the notion of there being any wrong in humans at all. To have the embodiment of that evil - Satan - is the best way for us to 'act' in repulsing it. To ignore our own comparatively little evils in the pursuit of the Big Bad. So eager are we to do so we cease to view our subjects as humans who are as weak as we are. We close our ears to their notions. We witch hunt.

  (Idon't get why witches tend to be female more than male, though. Is there really something so unnerving about a woman who lives alone or who acts independently that makes them prone to suspicion? If I'm wrong with the statistics and males are as easily accused of witchcraft as females, then there must be something more tantalizing in the notion of female witches, for the stories are quite biased.)

  When I fluctuate by the opinions of others. I feel myself being unfair by degrees - like being in a tube being pushed one way or the other. If I react strongly in support of one position, I find myself contemplating the righteousness of my actions as I'm propelled by counterforce to the other side. I wish I weren't such a bubble. Yet I do not want to taketoo strong a stance when everyone has their own perspective and when you see it the crime isn't so great. Some things we must believe in, like protecting the children from the adults, the poor from the rich, the weak from the strong. The naivette of rich, the strong, and yes, even the adults who have forgotten how tender childhood is, however, make you question the justice of holding such positions.

  In the end, one is suprised how things interconnect, just when you think your life is scrambled pieces, you realize it's all the same - egg.

  Sometimes a few more things, presented in a certain way, do break the camel's back. It is at these moments that you realize that you're a camel. Ah well, at least you can spit far.

  First it was a letter which was a note signed incomplete. With a pseudonym, no less.

  Then the friend who neglected to call at 1:30 and was too distracted to sense need at 7 PM.

  The meeting which culminated in lugging home a heavy box up 6 flights of stairs.

  The meeting having ended late. The feeling of hunger undermining one's ability to be cheerful.

  The roommate who opted for shopping instead of swimming.

  The call that asked for a camera, out of the blue.

  The doggone sense of responsibility.

  What frustrates one is whether one is entitled to a little anger. My teacher had said that anger stems from want. If I did not want anything, I would not feel anger.

  Should I cure myself and just walk away, detaching all affections? Is it possible not to care? I wish so.

  Can I please tell you to stop being so flippant? To not fray the already fragile sense of trust?

  Can you realize that it matters? That I'll walk away to avoid being hurt? That I'll keep looking back to see if it bothers you? And I'll sink if you don't come for me?

  It is a silly thing to care so much. I need to go get dinner. Perhaps, then, I'll swallow my self-pity and forget. Perhaps, then, I'll have the courage to tell you the truth.