The occasional trouble with being happy is that it makes you complacent. It makes you wane, it makes you unprepared for misery. Your skills in handling conflict, your competitive spirit flats out. The danger of being happy is that you no longer yearn for a heightened sense of power. A paranoia grows inside you like a tumor, balling up into a fear that you will lose the joy you've been clutching tightly. Perhaps it's also selfish, because even without a sense of righteousness, how can I remain with my one joy while others live in constant disharmony?
We will perish. We will all prune, we will wither, but we will live this way all over again. We dwell on the reasons why, even as our wick runs out, we seek out and share kindness. While I have been sad, I have been more than fortunate, and I have not failed to carry out what I see as my duty.
Harnessing an inner strength requires constant seeking and re-definition. I've already found my core reasons to live. I've recognized my fragility, but I will not slide down to thinking that I am less stern.
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