The Tongue and Her Pride

I just don’t care to fight anymore. I don’t want to drive you back. These things are so small and simple – they don’t mean anything in the end, so can we just let it be? Can we just let it die? Or do we have to go on swinging our tongues as if they were blades, always attempting to land that one blow that will be fatal? Is it impossible to sheathe these swords for even a day? Are we so intoxicated by the fight that we can no longer see the reason for fighting? Do we truly disagree, or are we just so caught up in our own little battles that even that humblest of treaties would fall rejected at our battle-ready feet? My eyes grow heavy, as does my arm. But heavier now and always will be the weight of my guilt should I let even one more chance for peace fleet away! I shall not lose you to my pride as I have so many others! If need be, I shall crucify my stiffness and stubbornness to the next tree I cross, for they are not so important to me that I would value them over you. Nothing, no matter its greatness or triviality, its length or depth, its validity or lack thereof, could ever be so lasting as you are…

…so why do I allow it to last?


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