I care about some people. So I know it's possible. It is more important to
care about some people than to worry about whether some people care about
you. Not because it is better to give than to receive. Or because being a
saint would be nice. But because the first thing lets you know it's
possible, while the second makes it so you can't tell if it is.
> That takes us back to humor, not the commercial stand-up
> kind flooding humanity these days, but humor bred
> in the tumor, when there's absolutely nothing to laugh
> about, so you think, and that's when you crack yourself
> up with a stupefying insight about what you been afraid to
> face: nobody gives a shit about you, never did, never
> will. No matter how hard you try to get along, keep an
> open mind, or close it ever tighter, the very yo-yos you
> trying to get close to squirts you with bile homebrewed
> just for you, laugh at your hurt, say comon caint you take
> a joke.
> Pow, you give that jokester a piece of your knuckle, or
> that's what happened to me last time I tried to tell some
> good-heart where to stick it their kindly understanding
> of my goiter ful ness. Saint, let me tell you, getting
> pounded in your burl do hurt. Then it swells twice what
> it was and nothing fits.
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