Knowing is no longer a possibility.
Not now.
Not when the whole world would crumple into a writer's discarded draft at the audibility of three certain words.
Humankind is built systematically. To give and to take. To buy and to sell.
But I am wired to give, and only to give.
To you.
Does this mean I will go bankrupt before the brief year is through?
I'd rather be in poor standing with the economy than with you.
But there's always a catch, no?
Every time I think I now how to untangle christmas lights, it becomes immediately evident that I don't.
The constant strangulation is a fear, but a reality.
But to escape would tear hearts and our world apart.
Most say I'm weak, and I find myself agreeing with them.
Because if I wasn't, knowing wouldn't be a possibility, no.
It would be a reality.